


Hers to Love; His to Protect

by CharlotteAshmore



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: An abundance of UST (sorry … not sorry!) - Freeform, Angst, Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Forming Caryl friendship earlier in season 1, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of domestic abuse (though not graphically depicted), Merle's not such a douchebag, Skewed Timeline, Slow Burn, Sophia is a surprise, caryl ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-05-28 13:03:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 70
Words: 327,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15049646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteAshmore/pseuds/CharlotteAshmore
Summary: It had become a festering ache beneath the surface of his skin, this need he had to protect her, to save her … because he was certain he was the only one who could in a world gone to hell.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. This is a work of pure fiction. All characters and events depicted in this story are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
> 
> A/N: This fic has been re-named, re-edited and now re-posted. I will try to re-post a chapter a day. Thank you for your understanding and patience. And to all those wonderful readers who messaged me asking that I put my fics back up immediately … I love you all and thank you so much for your love and support.

          "Yer starin' at her again, little brother," Merle Dixon snarked, startling his younger brother out of his reverie. He chortled loudly at the embarrassed flush stealing up into Daryl's face. "Sooner or later, her old man's goin' to notice an' then we'll have trouble."

          Daryl cast a quick look at Merle out of the corner of his narrowed eyes before he snorted and returned his gaze to the woman across the camp. "Not worried about Ed. I could take 'im," he murmured distractedly.

          "Not so sure the lil mouse would appreciate yer interference. Would only make it worse for her, I'm thinkin'." The eldest Dixon rubbed a hand over his face, his blunt nails scratching idly at the three days' growth of whiskers on his chin. "'Sides … we don't want trouble just yet. Keep it in your pants, bro."

          "Piss off, Merle," Daryl hissed tersely. With one last look of contempt, he shot to his feet, grabbed up his crossbow and stalked off into the tree line. He didn't go so far where he couldn't watch  _her_  though.

 _Easy pickings,_  Merle had said when he'd chosen this particular camp. It wasn't the first they'd found. Probably wouldn't be the last, though it was the longest they'd stayed in one place since the world had gone to hell. He'd been more than a little surprised when Merle had told him they'd be staying in the quarry camp for more than a night. Daryl hadn't cared, once again following after his older brother, trusting him to lead him as he always had in the past. He hadn't counted on meeting Carol Peletier, mousy little housewife to the most useless bastard in creation.

          The camp's leader – a former deputy from some backwater town – wasn't fit to take care of these people. The security of the place was a joke at best. They were ill equipped to fight off the undead should they come wandering this far from the city. The old man – Dale, he recalled – was at the heart of the little group of refugees, always there with a word of advice. Pfft! He didn't need advice. He and Merle were the most likely to be able to survive on their own. Andrea – some fancy, educated something or other – he was sure Merle wanted to stay for purely libidinous reasons. They were all the same, looking down their uppity noses at the Dixon brothers, judging them, taking their measure and finding them wanting.

          Everyone except  _her_  … Carol. He constantly found himself asking why he cared so much as to what happened to her. It was none of his business. It wasn't as if he were lusting after her. He wasn't like that. She hadn't been like Shane's woman, pulling her child behind her as if the child would be tainted if he came in contact with the redneck with the crossbow. No, Carol had peeked up at him from beneath her long dark lashes, a welcome smile on her lips and a wealth of sadness in her eyes which she couldn't hide. In her, he'd recognized a kindred spirit … one who knew pain, one who knew what it was like to be trapped in a nightmare not of their own making.

          Daryl's lip curled in disgust as he watched the tent across from the one he shared with Merle. It was set at an angle a good distance away, but he could make out her silhouette against the nylon as the light of the camp lantern shone behind her. She was tucking Sophia – and he was rather flummoxed he could remember the girl's name after only one introduction – in for the night. Her husband rose from the lawn chair outside beside their meager fire, stubbed out the cigarette he’d discarded with his foot and shambled into the tent, zipping the flap behind him. He could literally see her shadow curling in on itself before the light was extinguished and she vanished from his sight.  _Damn!_

          He sank down to sit on the soft loam of the forest floor and leaned his head back against the pine, his treasured crossbow a comforting weight across his lap. He was restless now that he couldn't see her, his mind imagining what kinds of horrors her husband would visit upon her for the slightest infraction. He knew all about abuse, having suffered at the hands of his father for years. He'd had no one to save him once Merle'd had enough of their old man and ran off to join the military.

          From what he had witnessed in their short time in the camp, Carol had made friends with the women. He snorted. Some friends. They turned a blind eye to the abuse Ed Peletier heaped upon his wife. If they didn't acknowledge it, it wasn't happening, right? But he saw … he knew. The way her smile never really reached the grief and despair so evident in her azure eyes, the way she would falter and stifle a gasp when she was forced to lift something too heavy or the slight hunch in her shoulders as she shied away from everyone's touch … he saw it all. He could just imagine the bruises she was hiding under the frumpy clothes she wore. Why would any woman as lovely as she, wear a long-sleeved shirt in the Georgia heat? Unless she had something to hide. How long would it be before the others noticed, and would they come to her aid even if they were able to see the abuse firsthand?

          Daryl shook his head and pulled a cigarette from the rumpled pack in his pocket. He wondered how long he'd be able to keep his distance; how long he'd be able to quell the rage he felt on her behalf … before his hand was forced.

 

*.*.*

 

          "Might as well c'mon out, girly. No need t' be hidin'."

          Daryl glanced over at his brother where Merle sat cross-legged before their tent, sharpening his hunting knife on the wet stone. His eyes scanned the area around their campsite, his steely blue gaze affixing on the little blonde girl. He turned back to the rabbits he was skinning, his prize from their morning hunt. "Leave Miss Sophia alone, Merle. She ain't done nothing t' you and there's no reason t’ scare her."

          "Wasn't tryin' t’ scare her," he insisted, grinning. "Where's that pretty mama o' yours, Peach?"

          "Merle …"

          Sophia slowly emerged from behind the fallen log at the edge of the camp and put her hands on her hips. "You weren't supposed to see me!" she said in a loud stage whisper which made even the hardened redneck want to laugh. "I was practicing being sneaky."

          Daryl snorted.

          Merle's eyebrows shot up. "Sneaky? With all th' noise y’ was makin'?"

          "Was not!"

          "C'mon over an' sit a spell. Want a drink? All that sneakin' musta made y' thirsty," Merle teased, waving her over. "Where's your partner in crime?"

          Sophia took the dipper of water and quenched her thirst before settling on the grass next to him. "His mom is trying to round up all of us for lessons. I mean, really? What's the point?" she asked bitterly, propping her chin in her hand.

          Daryl squinted out over the table to where she sat with his brother, his eyes narrowing. "So y’ don't grow up t' be stupid, that's why."

It was her turn to snort as she looked down at her fingers idly plucking at the grass beneath her feet. "We'll probably get eaten by those horrible things, so I don't see how it matters."

          His hunting knife stabbed into the pockmarked surface of the table next to the last of the rabbits. "Don't say shit like that, Soph," he scolded. "We ain't gonna let that happen."

          Merle cursed violently under his breath. "Who toldja that anyway?" He already had a pretty good idea; he just wanted his suspicions confirmed.

          "Daddy. He talks a lot when he's been drinking," she confessed, her fingers shredding the blades of grass she'd already pulled from the ground.

          Daryl's hands fisted at his sides as he turned away. Rage beat heavily at the corners of his vision, turning everything into a red haze What kind of asshole said such things to a child? He stalked away, out of her line of vision. He had to get ahold of himself before he crossed the camp and beat the ever-loving shit out of her father. He forced himself to take deep cleansing breaths as he paced next to the chopper. After several moments, the red seemed to fade from his vision, and his focus once more turned to the little girl, wishing somehow he could bring back her smile.

          Sophia, he suspected, took largely after her mother. She was a friend to everyone … including him and Merle. Especially Merle, because he made her laugh – something she was missing in her young life. She hadn't been one to take no for an answer when they'd tried to discourage her from hanging around their campsite. Poor Carl had been grounded for several days under the watchful eye of his mother when the boy had come over one day with Carol's daughter. At least if she were visiting their small area of the quarry, they could keep her safe for just a little while.

          Daryl rummaged through the saddlebags on his brother's bike and smirked, finding the peppermints scattered at the bottom. He snatched one up, unable to give her more than that and have her father wondering where she'd gotten it. Merle had already pulled out the pocket checkers game and set it up between them when Daryl returned. Her face lit up when he tossed the small treat in her lap before going back to cleaning his kill for the evening meal.

          "Thanks, Daryl," she beamed at him. Pointing to the checkerboard, she nodded sagely. "I think I'ma beat Merle this time."

          A loud guffaw carried across the quarry. "Not gonna happen, Peach."

          "Sophia! Sophia!"

          "Crap," the girl groaned.

          "Language," Merle admonished, hoping she wouldn't pick up on any of his bad habits.

          Daryl found it amusing that his brother had developed such a soft spot for the girl. Sophia enjoyed his company, and that's something neither of the brothers had ever expected. His eyes followed after Carol as she approached. He could see the relief wash over her face as she set her gaze on her daughter.

          "Sophia, how many times do I have to tell you not to run off?" Carol scolded, beckoning the girl over to her. She darted a look over to Daryl. "Mr. Dixon – "

          His icy blue gaze stabbed her with a quelling look. "Daryl," he reminded her. "Mr. Dixon was m' no good father. Call me Daryl."

          "Daryl … " she said softly, and god did he like the way it rolled off her tongue, all soft and sweet. "I hope she wasn't bothering you. I'll try to keep her out of your way."

          Merle climbed to his feet and offered Sophia a hand up. "She weren't no trouble, mouse," he drawled.

          "Mom!" the girl whined. "Can't I stay long enough to finish the game? Please?"

          Carol flinched at the unflattering nickname, casting her eyes down as she bit her full lower lip. He knew she hated telling her daughter no. He was observant after all, and he'd learned that much from the time he'd spent with her under his all-seeing gaze.  _Gawd! I'm a fuckin' stalker,_  he groaned to himself. "Go on … let her finish," he said softly, turning back to his work. "She ain’t hurtin’ nothin’, an’ it'll do Merle good to have her whip his butt at checkers."

          "Hey now!" his brother protested.

          "Please, mom?"

          Carol nodded almost imperceptively, but her daughter whooped happily and sat back down with the elder Dixon, moving her piece into position and claiming two of his as she crowed, "King me!"

          Daryl huffed a short laugh and wrapped one of the freshly skinned rabbits in a cloth. "Here … for your supper." At her hesitancy, he shook his head. "Don't worry, I've got plenty for the rest of the camp. Bunch of city folk. They'd starve if it was left up t' them."

          She unfolded her arms from over her chest and raised her sad eyes up to meet his. He inwardly cringed from the fear and pain he could see in the azure orbs. "Thank you," she mumbled, smiling weakly as she took it from him. "You don't know how much I appreciate it."

          "Carol Ann!" her husband barked, his eyes narrowed ominously.

          Daryl clenched his teeth, not having missed the way her body tensed in that fight or flight stance with which he was all too familiar. Sophia, two moves away from winning, abandoned the game and hurried to her mother's side, all traces of her former happiness having completely disappeared at the sound of that hated voice. Merle packed away the pieces of their game and rose to his feet, his own body tense as Ed approached.

          "What're you doing over here, woman? I thought you were tending to your chores," he growled, his eyes cold as he grasped her wrist tightly, his stubby fingers digging into the delicate skin of her wrist.

          Her lower lip trembled as she gathered her courage, fighting against the pain to explain to her husband. "Mr. Dixon was just offering us a rabbit for our dinner, Ed. Wasn't that nice of him?"

          Ed snorted, his gaze swinging back and forth between the brothers before settling on his wife. "Kinda getting tired of all this wild game, but I'm not one to turn down a freebie." He pulled on her wrist, nearly jerking her forward off her feet. "Go on, get back to your chores. They ain't gonna do themselves," he chortled.

          Daryl's hand tightened around the handle of his buck knife, the other planted flat on the table as if he were ready to vault over it. Merle's hand twisting in the back of his shirt was the only thing stopping him. "Daryl," Merle hissed urgently in his ear. "Don't make things worse for her  _or_  Peach."

          "Fuck!" The table toppled over with a bang as he turned to face his brother. "Ain't right, Merle," he snarled, his face suffused with angry color as he pointed a finger into his chest.

          "Never said it was," Merle said quietly. "But it ain't our place t' interfere."

          Daryl pushed away from him and sheathed his knife before bending to retrieve his crossbow, slinging it over his shoulder. "Yeah, that's the problem."

          Merle didn't try to stop him as he stalked off into the trees.

 

*.*.*

 

           He'd disappeared for two days on a hunt, and Merle had lit into him the second he'd stepped foot in the camp despite the deer he'd dragged back with him. Laments of  _too dangerous, got to stick together, what if he'd been swarmed by walkers_  still echoed in his ears. How could Daryl tell him he'd needed time to cool down? Merle of all people should know the intricacies of the Dixon temper, considering he shared it.

Daryl left Merle to gut and clean the deer. The camp would be able to fill their empty bellies for a change. Carol and Peach would benefit from the extra protein the meat would provide. His brother was unusually quiet, and he could practically hear the unasked questions wanting to loose themselves from his tongue, but Daryl left without a word. His skin itched and hummed with unrest. In the two days he'd been gone, he hadn’t been able to banish the sight of Carol's pain nor the fear in Sophia's eyes. He didn't understand why he cared what happened to them, he just knew he needed to save them from Ed Peletier. Not all the monsters in the new world were dead snapping snarling walkers. He was beginning to believe they were the lesser of two evils.

          He didn't know how long he remained in the woods surrounding the quarry, his anger simmering just below the surface. It was his need to clean himself up in the lake and then grab a bite to eat around the communal campfire which drew him out. He shivered somewhat in the evening air, pulling the makeshift poncho he'd fashioned out of an old horse blanket over his head. He nodded to Merle as he made his way to the table set up under the awning of the Winnebago and piled several cuts of meat onto his plate. Someone had found some potatoes, god only knew where, and he took some of those too.

          The night was cool, too cool for what had been such a hot summer day in Georgia, but at least it seemed to keep the majority of the bugs away, leaving Daryl to eat in peace. He managed to polish off half of his supper before his eyes were drawn to her across the campfire. He stilled mid-chew, a dark frown pulling his brows together. At the very edge of the neckline of her blouse at her left shoulder, were the faint traces of a bruise. Just like that, his appetite vanished, and his body tensed with the urge to beat the crap out of her husband. His gaze wandered over the group, who were animated in their glee over dinner, sharing stories and enjoying themselves. But Carol, finished with her own dinner, sat in her chair next to Ed, a fake smile on her lips and her hands demurely folded in her lap. Sophia sat at her feet on the ground to her right, her blonde head resting against her mother's knees. He couldn't remember ever seeing the girl so forlorn, so miserable.

          He couldn't stand it. The gratitude, the smiling faces, the all-around cheerfulness when the world was going to hell. It was all too much, the itch under his skin building to an unbearable ache. He nodded to the group as he took his leave, retreating to the comforting silence of the forest instead of the tent he shared with his brother. Only Merle would be able to recognize Daryl's unease, and he knew when not to provoke the beast.


	2. Chapter 2

 

          The next few days did little to alleviate Daryl's anger, especially when Merle talked about leaving to go see his supplier. Merle was a wild card in normal circumstances. He didn't need his brother hyped up on meth or whatever else it was he liked to dabble in. The elder Dixon had gotten in a good shot, and Daryl had the black eye to prove it, but Merle had backed down even if he wasn't happy about it. Once he'd calmed down, he'd even suggested they move on and part ways with the quarry camp. Daryl wouldn't hear of it. There was no way he'd leave those girls to Ed's mercy. Granted, there was little he could do, but there was always a chance, hope looming up before him like a specter that she'd eventually come to him for help.

          Daryl grunted, shaking his head as he heard Merle roll over in his bedroll inside the tent. He sat outside, the glowing embers of their campfire barely illuminating his troubled features. His crossbow sat upon his lap, the wax softening in his callused fingers as he worked them over the cable. His fatigue from the day's hunt, nor the late hour seemed to faze him. He'd never needed much sleep anyway.

          The camp was quiet, most of its occupants asleep. Only Shane seemed to be on guard duty atop Dale's RV with one of their few rifles. The peace and serenity were just another illusion, but it made it easy to find her immediately when Carol crawled from her tent and ran to the tree line and the path which led off towards the lake. He didn't hesitate for a second before slinging his crossbow over his back and rising to follow her. Shane had noticed nothing – or didn't want to – his watch focused in the opposite direction.

          The hunter's feet were near silent on the path as he followed her, the woman his prey. Never to harm, he thought ruefully of her situation, but to protect. What could she be thinking to run away from the relative safety of the camp in the middle of the night? And why was she in such a hurry? The full moon illuminated the worn dirt path enough for her to see by, but her steps had to be painful in those thin little shoes she liked to wear. He listened to the panting breaths she left behind in her wake, the little whimpers of despair, of pain. He wouldn't have been able to turn around in good conscience and leave her alone.

          Daryl paused at the edge of the tree line as the path opened up into the long ago depleted quarry, the dirt giving into gravel which led to the side of the lake and its crystalline waters. There were several large boulders he could have hidden behind in order to continue his watch over her, but he already felt guilty enough for his spying.  _I'm only here to make sure she stays out of trouble,_  he tried to convince himself. It would be fairly easy for her to find some, he was sure. She was distraught, that was clear, and out here with the very real threat of the walking dead, she wouldn't see them coming, whether it be a mile or six feet in front of her.

          He crept closer, following the choked sobs and the muted splashing she made as she entered the water.  _Th' fuck? She's going to catch her death in that freezing water!_  Apparently, she thought the same since she'd barely made it ankle deep before she lowered herself to her haunches and furiously scrubbed her skin with the bar of soap she'd brought with her. He blushed to the roots of his dark chestnut hair, quickly ducking back behind the outcropping of rocks when he realized she was completely bare. He felt like a fucking peeping tom!

          Daryl closed his eyes and sucked in a deep calming breath.  _You're here t' protect her, y' prick! Now's not th' time t' notice how lovely her ass is!_ When the splashing stopped, he peeked back over the ledge of his hiding spot to make sure she hadn't somehow drowned her fool self. Carol had returned to the shore. Her shoulders hunched dejectedly as she knelt there, holding a towel up to her chest. One hand was held to her mouth to stifle her sobs, but there was no way she could hide the way her entire body trembled under the pale moonlight.

          He pulled the poncho off over his head and approached her cautiously. A muffled squeak tore from her throat as he settled the warm blanket over her shoulders. Quickly he threw up a hand and scuttled backward. "It's me. I'm not goin' to hurt y’."

          "D-Daryl … " she breathed his name, catching the edge of the poncho before it could slip off of her. Even being alone with him – without the threat of her husband looming in the shadows – she couldn't seem to make eye contact with him.

          "What're y' doin' out here in th' middle of th' night, woman? And here of all places?" he hissed, dropping down to his knees to scold her gently, to warn her of the dangers of being in the forest alone at night. "Too chilly t' be bathing out here at night. Gonna get sick."

          She laughed bitterly, and he winced, not liking the sound at all. "If that were all I had to worry about," she mumbled as she met his eyes. "It's just what I've always done when … " She bit her lip and turned away, reaching for her discarded flannel gown. It was quickly pulled over her head and buttoned, the top one fastened just below the hollow of her throat.

          "C'mon," he said gruffly when she had her shoes back on, reaching out to give her a hand up. "I'll walk you back t' camp." He refused the poncho as she held it out to him, taking it and wrapping it around her trembling form once more.

          "Thank you," she responded shyly, ducking her head.

          "I think those two words is th' only thing y’ ever say t' me. Don'tcha have more in y' than that?" he challenged, keeping his pace slow and sedate. He wanted to enjoy walking through the forest with her, chatting with her without something coming along to steal her away, be it chores or her bastard husband. It was a strange feeling, but he felt good knowing he could at least protect her from the dangers of the forest.

          He felt as though he'd been handed a boon as one corner of her full lips tilted up in some semblance of a smile. "It just seems you're always doing something for either me or my daughter. How rude would it be not to thank you?"

          A comfortable silence fell between them. It was something unspoken between them without the need for words, an understanding of sorts. It was comforting and nice and soothed a bit of the ache beneath his skin. They were nearly back to camp when he found his tongue. "Are y’ alright?"

          "Of course … why wouldn't I be?" she asked, putting on a brave face. "I'm fine." Her standard answer when someone got too close. How many times had he replied in the same manner when Merle would ask?

          "Bullshit!" he growled lowly, stepping into her personal space and then cursing when she shrank away from him. "You're shakin' like a leaf. That's as far from fine as it gets." He didn't wait for her to answer. Instead, he grabbed her hand in a gentle clasp and pulled her along behind him towards his campsite.

          Carol followed meekly behind him, used to the rough handling no doubt because of Ed, but there was no fear directed towards his actions. With some surprise, he realized she trusted him. His stomach squirmed with live eels, or at least that's what it felt like to him. He didn't deserve it … not from her, not when he hadn't done anything to earn it. She sat down at his urging, her eyes darting towards the tent where her family slept before she turned those wide blue eyes on him.

          He left her there by the dying fire for a quick moment, darting inside to raid Merle's stash of hard liquor. It was better than his drug habit, and Daryl wasn't about to judge him for it. There were more than a few men who'd turned to drink when the world fell apart. He sat next to her on the ground, his back against the log he'd moved there some time ago. Pouring a splash of the amber liquid into a tin cup, he held it out to her.

          "G'on, take it."

          Carol shook her head dolefully. "I don't drink, Daryl."

          "You do tonight," he said, reaching for her hand and wrapping her cold fingers around the handle.

          "Daryl, really –"

          He cut her off. "It won't take th' pain away, but it might help you t' relax enough t' stop th' tremors." She glared defiantly at him as she tossed it back, his lips crooking in a smile as she sputtered and coughed. She gaped at him as he poured more into her cup. "Bit slower this time, woman," he cautioned.

          Carol stared down into her cup, forcing herself to take a deep breath. "All I need is for Ed to smell liquor on my breath," she mumbled more to herself.

          "Why d'you stay with him, Carol?" Daryl asked, his eyes boring into her with an intensity which surely frightened her, but he had to know. He had to hear it from her own lips.

          She set the cup down between them on the ground and twisted her fingers together where they came to rest on her lap. "He's my husband," she murmured, dropping her gaze when she couldn't bear to look at the anger in his eyes any longer.

          "That doesn't give 'im th' right t’ beat on y’ … t’ rape you!" He kept his voice near a whisper, not wanting to wake his brother, but the way Carol seemed to shrink away from him, he could just as easily be screaming it at her. "Don't look at me like that, woman! I'd  _never_ hurt y’."

          "I appreciate your concern – "

          His eyes narrowed on her as he tilted her chin up with a gentle hand. "What's gonna happen when he gets tired of beating on y’ an’ starts in on Soph?" Tears welled in her eyes to spill over her lashes as her gaze swung over to her tent where Sophia slumbered peacefully. "Y’ need t' leave 'im before it's too late."

          "You think I haven't tried?" she whispered, a bitter note in her voice. "The last time left me hospitalized for three weeks, and he threatened if I did it again … he'd throw me out and never let me see my daughter again. No money, no job, no place to live. And that's  _if_  he didn't outright kill me. I can't very well protect my child if I'm dead."

          "Let me help y’. Actually, we could help each other," Daryl smirked. "In case y' hadn't noticed, we're in th' middle of th' apocalypse. Money don't count for shit, woman. Neither do lawyers or judges. If y’ want t' leave 'im, do it. Don't hide behind some flimsy excuse. Leave 'im, Carol. Me 'n Merle will protect you an’ Soph."

          "I can't ask you to do that."

          "You're not. I'm offerin'." He prodded the dying fire, trying to coax just a bit of warmth from the softly glowing embers. "You're a fine cook, y’ sew, look after almost everyone in the camp, do laundry … y’ can do that for us, an’ in exchange you'll be under our protection. Y’ think ol' Ed would challenge th’ Dixon brothers?"

          Carol tilted her head to the side, studying him as she tried to puzzle him out. "You're a fine man, Daryl Dixon … but I can't drag you into my problems. You don't deserve that."

          She slipped the poncho off her shoulders and folded it over the log before leaving him there watching her retreat to her tent. He was still reeling over her words. He couldn't remember anyone  _ever_  referring to him as a fine man. If she thought so highly of him – no matter how delusional she might be to think that – why wouldn't she take him up on his offer?

 

*.*.*

 

          The tension Carol carried with her the rest of the week had her jumping at the least little noise. Sophia kept sending her questioning looks and Ed was beginning to take notice, much to her horror. Before Daryl had surprised her at the lake, she'd felt alone. She was always alone. Even in their crowded camp, she simply went through the motions doing her fair share. But she didn't feel part of the group… Not really. Ed didn't approve nor appreciate her getting close to anyone, especially when he feared she would find a way to break the hold he had over her.

          Now, though, she began to notice the attention Daryl paid her. Quiet brooding stares she wasn't sure he even realized he was sending her way. He literally dogged her steps, and if he were delayed on a hunt, Merle took his place. It was unnerving, and God forbid her husband take note of it. She could just imagine the beating she'd receive if he thought her interest lay elsewhere. She was jumpy, waiting for something to happen to set the hunters off. She knew it was inevitable and didn't have a clue as to how to stop it.

          Carol sighed as she pinned another of Sophia's socks to the clothes line, her azure gaze finding Daryl where he stood at the worn table next to his tent. She had found herself watching him too over the last few days, but he wasn't one to offer a smile. Normally, she would receive no more than a curt nod from him. She knew he was still angry with her refusal to let him help. He didn't realize how much she really wanted to accept his offer. But the terror which gripped her when she thought of what Ed would do to her was paralyzing.

          How would she and Sophia be able to stay in the camp if Ed decided to fight her decision? She wouldn't be able to stand it if something happened to Daryl. He was the only person in the quarry camp who seemed to notice her situation. She was sure he couldn't be the only person; he was just the only one to offer to help her. It made her wonder about what he might have suffered in his own past. His angry outbursts and then sullen bouts of silence - where he wouldn't even talk to his brother - were testament to past abuse. She had to admit she wanted to know more about him. Something about the kindness he buried so deep. She just didn't know if she would ever get the chance.

          Carol pinned the last articles of clothing from her basket to the line and let her eyes wander again. Her heart sank as she heard her daughter's musical laughter, because it wasn't coming from the direction she'd expected. Sophia was supposed to be with Carl and the two Morales children, having lessons with Lori. Instead her giggles were coming from just across the way at the Dixon campsite. And where was Ed? If he caught her over there again … She could already begin to feel the panic welling in her chest as she realized she'd let her earlier thoughts distract her enough to have let her lose track of him. It was possible – though not highly likely – that Shane or Dale could have cajoled him into doing something useful.

          Sophia laughed again at something the elder Dixon said to her as they stood with Daryl around the outdoor table he used to clean his kills. The sound was infectious, and Carol found herself smiling – something she rarely did – her feet carrying her slowly towards the sound. With one more glance over her shoulder to make sure Ed wasn't lurking about ready to jump her unawares, she hurried over to the three of them.

          "Look, Peach … like this," Merle instructed, showing her how to properly pull the tail feathers from the wild turkey he'd killed that morning. "If'n you do it right; we can make stuff with the feathers."

          "Stop givin' m' feathers away, y' ass," Daryl groused, tossing a gizzard at his brother.

          "Eww!" Sophia groaned, wrinkling her nose.

          "Ew, nothin'. That's some fine eats," Merle said, winking at her.

          "Daryl," she asked, turning her big blue eyes up to him. "What're you going to do with the feathers?"

          He shrugged, continuing to pluck feathers from the larger of the three turkeys. "I dunno. Sometimes I use them t' make bolts for my crossbow. Not like I can run out t' the nearest Walmart t' buy more."

          "Sophia? What – "

          Merle turned at the sound of Carol's timid murmur and grinned. "Mouse, what brings y' over here?"

          Carol sighed at the nickname, but knew it was pointless to call him on it. Merle Dixon did what he liked and didn't give a damn if it offended anyone. He'd been calling Sophia 'Peach' since they'd been introduced, and the girl beamed every time she heard it. Carol supposed she was just stuck with 'Mouse' for the time being.

          "Just looking for Sophia, who isn't where she's supposed to be … as usual," she said, ruffling the girl's blonde locks affectionately.

          Sophia cast her mother a pleading look. "I tried to study, Mom, but it was hard to concentrate. You know I don't like math. Besides, it's more fun helping Merle pluck the turkeys, and he promised to show me how to make something with the feathers."

          Daryl snorted. "Arts an’ crafts with th' Dixons, every mother's dream come true," he mumbled under his breath.

          Merle ignored him and scooped up the steadily growing pile of feathers. "Come on, Peach. Yer mama can help while we have all th' fun."

          Carol blinked owlishly at him as he and Sophia went to sit down next to the tent in the shade. Blushing, she looked to Daryl. "Do you mind … if I help, I mean?"

          He cast her a glance from the corner of his eye and nodded stiffly. "Do y' even know how? You look more the type to buy your turkeys prepackaged and frozen at th' supermarket."

          She huffed a short laugh, startling herself with the sound. "Yeah, Ed's not much on wild game, and I could probably laugh myself stupid thinking of him trying to hunt."

          At the sound of her husband's name, Daryl stiffened and laid his knife aside on the table. "Are y’ ok?"

          Carol cursed herself inwardly for ruining the amicable mood between them. "Yeah … yeah, I'm ok."

          He nodded, but she could see the muscle working in his cheek from the gnashing of his teeth. She’d really expected him to bring up his offer again, but apparently, he'd decided not to push. Instead, he simply dropped the third turkey in front of her and pointed to the tail feathers. "You ever plucked one of these before?"

          "Hardly," she said, shaking her head ruefully.

          "Well, that needs t' change. Th’ days of supermarkets an’ butcher shops are a thing of th' past. Y' need to learn t’ live off th’ land." He moved into her personal space and pulled the fowl closer, making sure he had her attention before turning back to the bird. He lifted a single feather and showed her where it protruded from the pimply flesh beneath. "See here, just pull gently so it comes out cleanly. One at a time so it doesn't break off … an’ make sure your grip is firm, so th’ quill doesn't cut y’."

          Carol followed his instruction and found it to be quite easy with the right amount of strength. She worked quietly beside him, and before she knew it, she had a sizable pile next to her left elbow. They worked together fluidly, though neither of them spoke. She was happy to listen to Merle and Sophia's quiet chatter as he showed her how to use a little fishing line to make a headdress to cover her silky hair.

          "Whatcha gonna make with your portion?" Daryl asked, his quiet voice dragging her attention back to him.

          "I'm not sure exactly. Glenn brought back some root vegetables yesterday from that run he made with T-dog … potatoes, onions, carrots … I suppose I could get with the other ladies and make a stew for everyone." She tilted her head to the side as if she were giving it more than a passing thought.

          "Sounds good. I think we have some foil left if you wanna roast it in the coals," he suggested. "There's wild herbs in th' forest t' give it flavor. I could show y’ if y' want?"

          Carol's smile slowly faded. "No, it would take too long, and Ed doesn't like to have to wait for his dinner. Besides, he never was too fond of roast turkey."

          He slammed his knife down onto the table with a loud thump. "What about what  _you_  want, or what  _Sophia_  wants, huh?" The happy chatter at the front of his tent paused as Merle and Sophia turned to look at them. He picked up the knife again, this time to start cutting the turkeys into quarters. "Bastard doesn't deserve your kindness."

          "Daryl, don't … please?" she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I don't have a choice. It's just how it is."

          "Yeah, y’ do," he hissed bitterly. "You're just a fuckin' coward."

          Her eyes glittered with an inner strength she hadn't known she possessed. "I'm doing what I need to do to protect my daughter. Wouldn't you do the same for Merle?" she asked quietly, already knowing the answer. She knew he'd do practically anything for his brother.

          Daryl stared at her for a long moment before wrapping her portion of the fowls in a cloth and holding it out to her. "There's nothin' more important than family, woman. You just need t' figure out which family you want t' belong t’."

          "Why is saving me so important to you?"

          "Because maybe if someone …  _fuck!"_  He caught himself before he could reveal too much to her. "It jus’  _is_ , ok?!"

          Carol barely caught the portion he'd prepared for her as he thrust it at her and stormed off. Their tentative friendship was off to a rocky start. First her, and now him, each running from the other when things became too uncomfortable. Her chin dipped to her chest as she shook her head. Hurting him was the last thing she wanted to do. He'd been so good to her, and she didn't want to lose what was developing between them. She somehow knew if she gained his friendship, it would be a treasured gift, and oh how she wanted that. But she was afraid, and just didn't know how to get past that fear to grab what she wanted with both hands.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

          Daryl stared blankly at his brother as Merle dropped an entire bag full of craft supplies at Lori Grimes' feet. Looking at the former school teacher, he didn't believe her eyes could get any wider. "For th’ kids. Might keep ‘em busy," he mumbled before moving off. The only thing he kept for himself was a small bag of multi colored dyed feathers. He tried to ignore the unfamiliar rush of pride over his good deed. That wasn't who he was. He didn't do things like this when there was nothing in it for him. He'd let himself think of Carol's girl, and how much she would enjoy having something besides lessons to occupy her time. Shit! She was making him soft.

          Lori had to rescue the plastic bag from the excited children she'd been trying to teach for the past hour. "Um … thank you, Merle … that was very thoughtful," she stammered, flummoxed as to why the hardened redneck would give a damn about the children in their camp.

          Merle nodded and began making his way back to his own campsite with his brother. "Is there somethin' I should know about?" Daryl asked, barely able to conceal the teasing glint in his eye. "Y' decided t' have a go at courtin' th' teacher? Don't think ol' Shane's gonna like that much. For fuck's sake, Merle. You're gonna ruin your reputation if y' go all soft an’ actually start carin' for someone other than yourself."

          "Shut it, lil brother," Merle warned, taking a seat in the grass by the tent. "I did it fer th’ kids. They don't deserve what's happened t' ‘em.. So, when we ran across th' Pick-n-Save, I just thought t' see if'n there was some craft stuff t’ keep 'em busy. Peach likes this kinda stuff."

          He picked up the headdress he was making with Sophia and opened the bag of colored feathers, weaving some red, blue and yellows in with the dark browns and grays they'd taken from the turkeys several days ago, just so he didn't have to see that look of befuddlement on his brother's face. He wasn't going to admit working on the project kept his mind off of how badly he wanted a hit of meth, cocaine, acid … hell, he didn't really care what.

          "She came looking for y' earlier, but I told her you'd gone on th’ run with T and Glenn," Daryl said, lowering himself down with his back to the log next to the dormant fire pit. "You're gettin' attached to her, don'tcha think?"

          "No more'n yer gettin' attached t’ her mama," Merle countered. His eyes searched her out, finding her with Jacqui and Andrea where they were by the communal campfire chopping vegetables for their evening meal. "How's she doin' anyway?" Fuck … there he went, giving a shit again.

          Daryl grunted, his shoulders lifting in a shrug. "Haven't seen any of th' usual signs of abuse on her, but she's pretty clever at hidin' her bruises."

          "Maybe ol' Ed's noticed how protective you've gotten in regards t' her an’ is just biding 'is time."

          "Maybe." Daryl reached for the canvas sack at his brother's side, wanting to see for himself if Merle had brought back anything useful. "So, Martha Stewart, what'd y' bring me?"

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol knew she was in trouble when Andrea came to her and asked, "Carol, do you think you could ask Daryl to come help move more stones around the fire pit? Hector and Jim have an idea to build it up where it can provide more heat with less light."

          She stared at the woman with a deer-in-the-headlights look. "Er … why would you want  _me_  to ask?"

          "Well, y'all are friends, right? I see you hanging out together all the time," Andrea went on innocently. "He's got such a chip on his shoulder, so I thought it would just be better coming from you."

          "He does not!" Carol squeaked defensively. Her cheeks went up in flames as the other woman gave her a knowing look.

          Andrea smirked. "It's ok if you don't want to. I suppose I could have Shane ask him."

_Well …just …shit!_

 

*.*.*

 

          Yep, she was in trouble.

          "What do you do with your leftovers when you don't cook with us?" Lori asked one morning as she scrubbed out one of the larger cookpots, her nose wrinkling at the congealed mess within.

          Carol nearly dropped the spoon she'd been using to stir the cauldron of sickly sweet cream-o-wheat. "I don't usually have leftovers," she said, fighting back the color spreading up her neck. "Ed has quite the appetite."

          Lori shot her a dubious look. "But Daryl usually gives you a larger portion of the game he kills, doesn't he? I'm sure Ed can't eat it all."

          "I need to go check on Sophia!"

          Carol bounded to her feet. There was no way she was going to tell the woman – no matter how close they'd grown over the past weeks – that she had begun bringing the brothers a portion of the meals she cooked for her family. Not even Ed knew she would ladle up two bowls – no matter what she prepared – and bring it to Daryl before she ever thought to feed her husband. It was the least she could do for the hunters considering how hard they worked to keep everyone fed. And besides, she thought with a grimace, she'd tasted Merle's cooking.

          Lori's hand reached for Carol's, her gentle grasp preventing her friend from leaving. "Carol, it's ok … I'm not going to tell anyone. Carl mentioned it the other day, that's all."

          Carol still couldn't meet Lori's gaze, panic beginning to rise.  _Please don't let Ed find out_ , she prayed.

 

*.*.*

 

          "It wouldn't hurt y’ t' pay attention, Merle. Y' might actually learn somethin'," Daryl said, grinning at his brother over the light of the campfire.

          "Hafta admit … it does smell good," Merle nodded, moving one of his pawns forward on the board. His gaze swung to Sophia who sat across from him wearing the feathered headdress over her strawberry blonde locks. "How many spaces can this move again?"

          She giggled as he frowned over the unfamiliar pieces. "It's not that hard," she said patiently. "My friend next door taught me in one afternoon. This one is a pawn and it can move forward one or two spaces …"

          Carol stirred the gravy, making sure it wouldn't clump before she added the venison tenderloin back to the large cast iron skillet. She couldn't remember the last time she  _or_  her daughter had felt so relaxed and carefree. She was cooking dinner over Daryl's campfire, sharing his space, and enjoying his company … and she couldn't be happier. She wondered if she were truly free of Ed if this was what it would be like to be part of the family Daryl wanted to share with her.

          "What're y' smilin' about, Mouse?" Merle called to her.

          "I was just thinking how nice it is to be free for one evening," she answered honestly. Merle had been better since his brother had put his foot down and refused to do his bidding. He'd gained a new respect for him, and it seemed to be doing them both a world of good. She wasn't sure what would happen if Merle were to go on a run and find 'a fix' – as Daryl had put it once in an unguarded moment – but for now he was doing well, content to stay put with the quarry camp. She knew he would be reluctant to part ways with his brother. At the end of the world, they needed one another.

          Daryl wrapped a towel around the handle of the pot he'd used to parboil some carrots and potatoes and passed it to her, so she could add the vegetables to the stew she was preparing. "How long is Ed going to be gone on this run? Did Shane say?"

          "All I know is what Ed told me." Her voice lowered into a comical tone as she mimicked her husband's deep voice. "I don't trust those idiots to bring back the right brand," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Seriously, though, you cannot just run out to the corner store and buy a pack of cigarettes and a case of beer as if nothing is happening."

          "Dumbass," Daryl muttered under his breath.

          Merle shared a downright evil grin with his brother, one which Carol didn't miss. She dropped her spoon in the skillet, her lips parting on a small gasp. "You two planned this, didn't you?! How?"

          "Don't get yer panties in a knot, Mouse," Merle chuckled.

          "Just told Shane Ed should contribute. And since he's pretty much useless around camp … we thought he should go on a run," Daryl added, his mouth crooking with smug satisfaction.

          Sophia swiped up the game pieces and stored them away in the storage compartment on the board, her mouth screwed up in a frown. She cast her eyes downward, feeling guilty for hoping her father wouldn't come back at all.

          Merle looked at her worriedly. "Somethin' wrong, Peach?"

          "Just tired," she offered lamely. She curled up on the blanket she'd been sitting on and laid her head in Merle's lap. The look of tenderness on the man's face nearly caused tears to form in Carol's eyes. She didn't know him well, but anyone with eyes could see the gentle kindness he held in his heart for her daughter. It was as if he had suffered something in his past which let him bond with Sophia, a shared pain and the need to help her through it.

          It was a bittersweet smile which touched his lips as he rested his hand atop Sophia's soft hair. "It's ok, Peach. We'll save y' some supper."

          Carol barely noticed when Daryl scooted closer to her, his voice rough. He seemed equally affected by this softer side of his imperturbable brother. "It's good t' see y’ so happy an’ smilin'." He rubbed his palms on his pants nervously. "Y'know it could be like this all th' time if you'd – "

          She removed the hot skillet from the fire and set it aside with a final stir. "Don't," she whispered so only he could hear. "Please, don't." She couldn't tell him it was getting more and more difficult to tell him no. The more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to accept his offer. Despite his gruff exterior, she wanted nothing more than to give in and do as he wanted, to become a part of his family where she was wanted and cared for, where Sophia was treated well and wouldn't ever have to fear her father again. "Just let me have this one night where I know Sophia is safe and we're surrounded by people who I'm proud to call my friends."

          Merle pulled a flask from the inside pocket of his vest and lifted it in salute to her. "I'll drink t' that!"

 

*.*.*

 

When it came down to it … the choice was taken from her hands and placed firmly into Daryl's. And now that she was his, he'd be damned if he'd let anyone or anything hurt her again. Especially Ed Peletier.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: WARNING: Violence, domestic abuse, people getting shot in the ass …etc, etc.

          Those who'd gone on the supply run … Shane, Morales, Garcia, and Ed … were not in the best of moods when they returned the following day as the sun was making its way down over the edge of the horizon. Merle had brought them several turkeys from his morning hunt, and he frowned as he paused in his instructions on how to debone them for the spaghetti Carol had mentioned wanting to make from the can goods she'd been inventorying. "Oh, this don't look good," he said to his brother where they sat in the shade of Dale's camper.

          Shane looked fit to be tied, and not even a welcoming smile from both Lori and Carl seemed to lift his spirits. Morales and Garcia looked as if someone had died and Ed looked smug. Daryl's lip curled up into a sneer as the man passed, making his way to his wife as the others were doing. He was pleased to see Ed's smile vanish as Carol turned away and gave her attention back to Merle. She'd deboned plenty of chickens in her life – turkeys couldn't be that different – but if being instructed gave her a few moments more away from her husband's company, she'd gladly play dumb.

          Ed threw an arm around Carol's shoulders, pressing his weight onto her slender frame until she winced, making it clear he wouldn't be tolerating any of her excuses that evening. "C'mon, woman; you can cook dinner at our own fire."

          "But I promised –"

          " _Now_ , Carol," he barked. "I don't give a damn what you promised these people. I'm yer husband and it's  _my_  needs that need seeing to."

          "Ok … just a sec," she stammered, shooting a pleading look at Lori. "Do you think Sophia could maybe spend the night with Carl?"

          Lori stared daggers at Ed before reaching out and giving Carol's hand a gentle squeeze. "Of course, she can, Carol. They'll have a great time."

          "Thank you," she whispered in relief before Ed dragged her away.

          "I swear that man is  _never_  going on a run with us again," Shane told Merle as Daryl climbed to his feet to follow after Carol. The hunter was unable to get the look of fear and revulsion she'd worn out of his head.

"What'd he do?" Merle asked.

Shane shook his head. "I'd think he had lead in his feet. Slowed us down at every turn and  _then_  thought he was too good to pull his weight. Sat in the truck while the three of us did all the work. Lazy fuck," the former lawman lamented. "Nevermind his dumb ass. We were able to find some things which hadn't been picked clean. We just need to get the truck unloaded. Should last us a couple more weeks and supplement what you and Daryl have been supplying in the way of meat."

          Merle nodded to Daryl, silently telling him he'd help out while his brother kept an eye on Carol. Daryl kept his distance, but not so far he couldn't hear what Ed and Carol were talking about.

          "We were worried when it got so late and y'all still weren't back yet," she said, stepping out of his domineering embrace, one arm wrapping protectively about her waist, the other rubbing roughly at the back of her neck with each step which brought her closer to their tent.

          "That's whatcha get when you depend on a bunch of wetbacks," he sneered.

          She took offense at his racist remark, but Carol knew better than to verbally disagree. Daryl was only a few feet behind them on the path and her skin hummed with awareness, knowing he was simply biding his time, waiting for Ed to step out of line. A few more steps and they were at their own little campsite. Her fierce protector was forced to move on to his own, and she quickly urged her husband into his favorite lawn chair, gathering a fresh pack of cigarettes and a warm beer for him. Even the lack of ice for their cooler didn't seem to dispel his urge to drink.

          Carol hurriedly went through their small stash of canned goods and found some beef stew. It didn't matter what he ate, he never had a kind word for her hard work. She just hoped it would appease him. With a full belly, and the fatigue he was sure to have suffered on the run, perhaps he'd fall asleep early and leave her be.

          It wasn't meant to be, however. She could see it in her husband's sloe-eyed gaze, the way he licked his lips in anticipation. A shiver skittered along her spine, a thousand angry bees buzzing beneath her skin, a warning of what was to come. She tried to remain as still as possible where she knelt there by the fire. It was all she could do not to flinch away from his touch as he let his fingers trail over the bare skin of her arm revealed by her sleeveless shirt.  _No, please no_ , her mind screamed.  _Please not where Daryl can see._  It would be unbearable for him to witness her shame. She couldn't even chance a glance across the path to see if he was there in his silent angry vigil.

          Carol forced a smile to her trembling lips as she raised her gaze to the man beside her. "I think I'll go get ready for bed," she intoned, praying he'd just let her go.

          Ed's grin widened, and she felt her stomach roil with dread. He didn't speak, didn't rise to follow, but she knew not to let that lull her into a false sense of security. When he was silent was when he was most unpredictable. The blustering she could handle; the silence made her quake with fear. His dark eyes followed her as he took another long drag off the Marlboro clutched in his meaty fist, and she was sure his mind whirled with the debaucheries he planned to visit upon her healing flesh. She still carried his marks from the last time. She wondered if she'd ever once be able to look into a mirror without a fresh bruise on her pale skin.

          Peletier guzzled down the last of his beer and stubbed out the cigarette beneath his shoe, his gaze narrowing as he watched the older brother return to his campsite carrying two bowls of whatever had been prepared at the communal campfire. It was unnerving the way the younger brother always seemed to be watching Ed and his family. Those Dixons had a way of looking at you, all quiet menace. It made him want to sleep with a knife under his pillow.

          Carol was lying on her left side when he entered their tent, facing the back wall of the nylon structure, the thin blanket pulled all the way up to her chin. She could feel his gaze on her and fought down a shudder of revulsion. She startled when he spoke and knew the horrors of the night were only beginning for her.

          "Here," Merle said, holding out a bowl of spaghetti to his brother. "Brought y' some dinner."

          Daryl didn't even bother to look up, his narrow-eyed gaze focused on Carol's no-good husband. "Not hungry," he murmured.

          Merle shook his head as he sat down next to him, setting the bowl close to the fire to keep it warm. "C'mon, lil brother, it's your favorite. Not as good as what mouse makes for us, but it's decent."

          Daryl remained silent, wishing he had a bottle of Southern Comfort to dull the pain in his chest. It killed him to know she was so afraid, to know the big man had the potential to crush her body as well as her spirit. He knew better than anyone what it was like to have no hope for something better. She was so different when she didn't have Ed looking over her shoulder, all warm smiles and shy glances. He wished she could be like that all the time. But he couldn't help someone who didn't want it.

          Merle polished off his bowl and sat back against the log, using it as a backrest for his aching muscles. "How long y' gonna let this go on?" he asked, loudly sucking his teeth.

          "What?"

          "Y'know what!" Merle grouched. "You cain't help somebody who don't want it. Are y' in love wi' her? Is that it? Does Darylina have a lady love?"

          "Shut up!" Daryl shot him a quelling glance. He'd been wondering when his brother would start on him with the innuendo. "No … s'not like that, Merle."

          "Know what yer problem is? Y' think y' can save everyone an' y' cain't. Stop making this about mama, boy! That fine woman over there is never gonna see y' for anythin' but what ya are … a filthy redneck not worth th' time o' day. Time t' move on, lil brother."

          Daryl sat up straighter as he tuned out his brother's rant – he had to listen to it every time Merle got a bug up his ass and things weren't going his way – a soft whimper carrying on the mild breeze. "Shut up, Merle. Didja hear that?"

          "Hear what? Great, now yer imaginin' things, for fuck's sake."

          He  _wasn't_  imagining things. He was sure he'd heard Carol. Daryl took the second bowl of food Merle had brought and shoved it at his brother, hoping he'd eat and engage his mouth in something besides useless chatter. The sharp sound of flesh meeting flesh was unmistakable, and the hunter drew himself up onto his knees, his senses alert as he reached for his crossbow.

          "Daryl, don't y' do it, boy! You'll bring down all kinds o' trouble on our heads," he hissed. "Then how're y' goin' t' be there for mouse an’ her girl., huh?"

          The color drained from his face as he heard her voice pleading for mercy. "Please, Ed, no!" A shrill scream … ripping cloth. Daryl was on his feet and halfway across the path when she fell through the tent enclosure.

          "You're chasin' after those damn Dixons like a bitch in heat and you can't even have sex with your own husband? Fuckin' whore!" Ed bellowed, reaching down to where Carol cowered, one of her delicate hands tightly grasping her torn pajama top. He reared back with his ham-like fist, moving around her kicking legs to get a better angle to strike her. His heavy boot caught her hip, and she reeled under the force of the kick, curling in upon herself with a whimper of pain.

          Daryl saw red, his rage consuming him. With a roar, he let a bolt loose from the crossbow, uncaring if his aim was true. He didn't care where it struck the man, nor did he care if he killed the bastard. All he cared about was saving the woman he called friend. He could hear Carol crying, Merle yelling as he pounded after him, and Ed yowling in pain as he tried to pull the arrow out of his left ass cheek.

          Caught off guard, Ed wasn't prepared for Daryl's full weight to come hurtling out of the dark at him. The hunter mourned the loss of his precious bolt as it snapped in half, he but reveled at the pain it was causing his hated nemesis. He planted a knee in Ed's groin, ensuring more pain, his weight increasing pressure on the bolt's sharp tip as he ground the man into the dirt. And then the world came crashing out of orbit as he heard Carol cry out in pain as she tried to stand, her voice filled with despair as she called his name and begged him to stop.

          There would be no stopping him now. He rained blow after blow over Peletier's face, feeling his knuckles tear open when they connected with bone. When he couldn't bear to hit him anymore, he grabbed the bastard's ears and slammed his head into the ground. With every blow he reminded himself of Carol's pain, Carol's suffering, Sophia's fear and sullenness. His vision was a raw red haze, fueling his desire to rip and tear.

          "Daryl, please … you're killing him!" she cried as Merle and Shane – who'd been on guard duty and had heard the fight break out – struggled to pull him away from her husband.

          "Geroffme!" he growled, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly with exertion and rage. "Get off me!"

          "Not until you tell me what happened?!" Shane bellowed, trying to hold Daryl off from finishing the job.

          "Fuckin' bastard shot me," Ed managed to utter from his prone position. He rolled to his side and spit out a mouthful of blood and a broken piece of a molar. "First I find out he's fuckin m' wife and then he shoots me in the ass with that infernal bow of his."

          "What?" Dale sputtered, having come to diffuse the situation. His gaze swung to Carol who was still sitting where Ed had dumped her on the ground. She sported a split lip and a gash over her cheekbone from his heavy hand. "I'm sorry Ed, but I just can't believe that of Carol."

          "I never touched her!"

          "That's bullshit, and you know it!" This from Merle, outraged on his brother's behalf. "Don't matter what she was doin', though. It don't give 'im th' right t' use her as a punchin' bag."

          Daryl jerked his arm out of Shane's grip and moved to crouch down next to Carol. He whipped his poncho over his head and wrapped it around her trembling shoulders. His icy gaze held just the right amount of menace to hold the rest of them at bay, no one wanting to get close to the manic hunter. Many more came to see what was going on and Daryl glared at Andrea when she was brave enough to kneel beside the injured woman.

          "Oh, Carol, I'm so sorry, I – "

          " _Now_  you're sorry," he scoffed. "Where were y' when she was hidin' her bruises, huh?" He looked to those assembled. "All o’ you! Where were y' when she needed help, when she was sufferin' in silence? Bunch of fuckin' hypocrites. It's all good if y' don't look at what's goin' on. Just bury your fuckin' heads in th' sand and hope he don't kill her."

          "Daryl, now calm down, son," Dale said in that patient tone of his. "We're not going to ignore what happened here tonight."

          Ed groaned. It was a wonder he hadn't lost consciousness. Carol was sure it had to do with that thick skull of his. "Yeah," he slurred. "He needs t' be arrested for assault."

          Merle's laughter rang out through the camp. "Guess what, Ed?" he sneered. "Deputy Dawg here cain't arrest nobody. There's been a breakdown in government because of all this shit. The most y' can look forward t' is whatever th'  _group_  decides fer y’. Tell us Ed … how many friends y' made here in th' camp?"

          "Me?!" Peletier gasped. "I'm the one he shot!"

          "I was protectin' Carol," Daryl argued. "And I'll continue t' protect her from th' likes of you."

          "Why don't we ask Carol what  _she_  wants?" Glenn suggested as he came to kneel next to Dale to check over Ed's wound. He grimaced, knowing it was going to be a little slice of hell when the broken shaft was removed.

          Carol, chin already tucked tightly to her chest, quailed at being the center of attention. Her cheeks burned, and wished she could just flee into the woods, take Sophia and just run, but she knew Daryl – and likely Merle too – would come after them. She pulled the poncho more securely about her trembling form and slowly raised her gaze to her friend who wanted nothing more than to protect her, to save her. She could see it in his guarded gaze, that need for her to choose him.

          "D-Daryl?" she asked, silently cursing herself for sounding like the little mouse Merle claimed her to be. "I-Is your offer still open?"

          Some of the tension drained off of him, his shoulders dipping almost imperceptively in relief. Finally! He gave her a stiff nod. He turned to glower at the man who'd caused her such infinite misery. "Y' hear that, Ed Peletier? She ain't yours no more. You can consider this your walkin' papers."

          "You can't take my wife!" Ed's bellow turned into a groan as he tried to move.

          "I'm not takin' her, y' stupid son of a bitch … she's choosin' t' leave y’."

          Dale pushed his bucket hat further back on his head and rubbed a hand over his brow. "Carol, are you sure this is what you want?"

          She nodded.

          "Fine, go, y' fuckin' bitch! But you ain't takin' Sophia."

          Merle kicked him in the side, scowling down at him. "Don't talk about mouse that way!"

          A disjointed sob tore loose from her throat, her panicked azure eyes filling with tears as they met Daryl's. "As if we'd let her stay with y’. She needs her mama, not some abusive prick like you," Daryl spat.

          Shane rubbed a hand over the back of his neck as he shifted from foot to foot. "Alright, so this is how it's gonna be? Carol, are you sure you want to stay with the Dixon brothers?"

          "Daryl's my friend. He and Merle are good men, and I know we'll be in safe hands with them," she said to the former lawman.

          He accepted her decision. "Well, let's get Ed patched up before he bleeds out."

          "What're we goin' t' do with th' bastard after that?" Merle wanted to know.

          "We can't just kick him out. You know what's out there," Dale said, the whole situation leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

          Daryl picked up his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder, then bent to scoop Carol gently into his arms, careful of any injuries she may have acquired that he couldn't see. "I don't give two fucks what y' do with 'im, but if I catch him anywhere near Carol or her daughter … I  _will_  kill him."

          Shane scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed as he dropped to his haunches outside the tent Lori shared with her son. He called to her, weariness heavy in his voice, but who wasn't weary in this new world with the real threat of danger around every corner. She appeared almost instantly, her entire upper body leaning from the enclosure.

          "Hey," she greeted, her eyes wide. "What was with all the yelling? I thought I heard a woman scream."

          He kept his voice low, not wanting to wake the children inside. "Everything's settled now, but it's nothing good. How are the kids? They asleep?"

          "Yeah, they're fine … sound asleep." Lori reached out and laid her hand on his forearm as she searched his face. "Now tell me what's happening."

          Shane figured he might as well tell her the whole story since everyone would know by morning anyway. "Ed accused Carol of sleeping around with the Dixon brothers and beat her up."

          Lori gasped, her hand rising to cover her mouth in horror. She glanced over her shoulder at Sophia curled up in a spare sleeping bag, thankful the girl had been there instead of in her parents' tent. She shouldn't have to witness such things. "Is she alright?"

          He snorted. "She's gonna be bruised up for a bit, but I don't see Ed laying hands on her again. Not after Daryl shot a bolt through his ass and took Carol away from him."

          "Wait … what?! He shot Ed?" she asked incredulously. "Did he kill him?" She'd never understood why Carol stayed with him, and in her book, his loss wouldn't be mourned.

          Shane didn't miss the bloodthirsty note in her voice. He knew Lori had gotten closer to Carol in the last month as they’d shared chores and the budding friendship between their children. "No, he's alive. Daryl made Carol choose … she could either stay with Ed or accept Daryl's protection. She chose Daryl." Again, he rubbed his big hand over his face. "Did you know about them?"

          Lori arched a brow. "They're not like that, Shane. There you go jumping to conclusions," she scoffed. "You can't believe Ed and his wild accusations. Carol and the brothers are just friends."

          "I didn't think Daryl Dixon had friends. The chip on his shoulder is bigger than that iceberg which sunk the Titanic. The only person who could make a worse friend would be that brother of his."

          "Why? Because they're prejudiced, racist rednecks?" she asked, having heard him say that more than once about the Dixons. "Hmm, Deputy Dawg?"

          "You know I hate it when you call me that," he grumbled.

          She shot him a pointed look. "Because I know you were a good cop? Well, I'm sure they don't like it when you call them rednecks. See my point?"

          "Yeah."

          She switched gears, wanting to hear the end of the story. "So, what happened to Ed? I'm sure he wasn't too happy to have her defect to the enemy camp, so to speak."

          Shane shook his head, still reeling from the night's events. "Dale and Glenn are patching him up. Not only did Daryl shoot him, he also beat the crap out of him. So, even if Daryl allowed Ed near Carol, Ed wouldn't have the strength to touch her."

          "I'm glad. She's suffered enough," Lori said quietly, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off a chill.

          "You knew she was being abused?"

          "Everyone knew. We just didn't do anything about it. We should all feel ashamed of ourselves."

          He nodded, looking away guiltily.

          "What are we going to do about Ed once he recovers? I really don't think it's a good idea to let him stay here with us."

          "Dale's against making him leave, so I guess we're stuck with him," he said.

          "This is going to blow up in our faces, mark my words." She yawned and looked back at the children who slept on peacefully. One last question lingered at the forefront of her mind before she said goodnight to him, however. "Shane? Did you by any chance take Daryl's crossbow away from him? For shooting Ed?"

          Shane snorted. "Do I look crazy to you?"

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

          His heart pounded, adrenaline still steadily pumping through his veins, and it took the greatest effort on his part to bring his breathing back under his control as he carried Carol away from her nightmare of a marriage, away from the abuse and pain and fear she'd lived with every fucking day. Daryl's own tent loomed ever closer as his feet carried him back to his small section of the quarry campsite. As soon as he crossed that nylon threshold, there would be no going back. If he brought her inside, she would be a part of his family … forever. Dixons didn't turn their backs on family. She would be safe. Sophia, their 'Peach', would be safe. No more beatings, no more abuse. No more worrying about that slimy bastard putting an inappropriate hand on his own daughter. The words reverberated through his head like a prayer. If only there had been someone like that for his mother so long ago … or for him.

          Daryl shook his head and made that final step, bringing her inside and dropping to his knees so he could deposit her on his sleeping bag. He was sure they had another in the truck which he could use later. She could use his until they could collect her things. Her arms were wound about his neck – nearly choking him with a hidden strength he hadn't suspected – and she didn't seem to want to let him go anytime soon. Her lips pressed against his neck as she burrowed her face there, and he began to sweat. He had no experience comforting a distraught woman. He could hunt, track and provide for them, but he had no clue as to how to deal with _this_.

          He swallowed several times, trying to find his voice. This was not how he'd expected this to go. "Carol … let go, woman. It's ok; you're safe now."

          A hysterical bubble of laughter burst from her lips, but she didn't release him. "Oh, my god, what've I done? As soon as he can walk again, he'll kill me for sure. I've made him a laughingstock."

          He froze, gnawing incessantly on the inside of his lip. She'd be better off trying to gain comfort from a statue, he mused, forcing himself to relax. There was too much trauma in his own past to feel at ease with her lying so trustingly in his arms, the touch growing uncomfortable. "I made y' a promise. Nobody's goin' t' hurt you anymore. You're mine to protect now."

          A violent shudder swept through her at the force behind those words, making her believe it was almost possible. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely a whisper of sound. "Thank you for saving me, Daryl. For saving my daughter. I just hope you don't come to regret it."

          "I regret not killin' the fucker."

          "I didn't want you to kill for me. You don't need a black mark on your soul."

          He grunted. "I got plenty of black marks. One more wouldn't've mattered."

          Finally, she felt safe enough to loosen the fierce grip she had on him and he was able to set her down on the sleeping bag. He reached behind her for the battery-powered lantern, switching it on. He cursed as he adjusted the level of illumination and got a good look at her face.

          Carol brought her hands up to test the tenderness at her cheek. "Is it bad?" She sighed as her fingertips came back tinged with blood. "At least he missed my eye this time. Nothing worse than trying to see with only one eye."

          Daryl tilted her chin up, so he could get a better look, and all the rage which had abated earlier came rushing back. "I'm gonna need a first aid kit." He glanced over his shoulder at the open enclosure. "Where th' hell is Merle? Merle!"

           "It's ok, Daryl. I can clean myself up," she protested. She never would have taken him for being the mother hen type. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Fuck," he growled. "I might have something in th' truck." Again, he glanced over his shoulder at the flimsy tent flap. "Ed's down for th' count – at least for this evenin' – so sit tight. Be right back."

          He slipped quietly from the tent and into the night only to find his brother arguing with Andrea. Her voice was an angry hiss as she stared him down, but Merle had always been one to give as good as he got.

          "Just let me see her, damnit! Let me try to help," the blonde said, one hand planted firmly on her hip as she glowered at the elder Dixon.

          "And I jus' don't see how she'd need yer help there, Blondie. She's in good hands with m' brother. Y' heard it from her own lips not ten minutes ago." Daryl rolled his eyes as a slow smirk spread over Merle's lips and he stepped into her personal space. "But y'know  _I'd_ welcome a little … " Merle licked his lips as he let his gaze raked her from head to toe. " …  _TLC_."

          Andrea's upper lip curled in disgust.

          "The fuck, Merle?" Daryl asked before Andrea could hit him with the object clasped tightly in her hand. He didn't even acknowledge her. "We got a first aid kit?"

          The blonde held out the box of first aid supplies to him. "Here, Daryl. I came by to see if I could help and Merle here wouldn't let me pass," she said as he took the box from her.

          "And I told 'er we didn't need her help."

          He didn't have time for their petty arguments when Carol was bleeding and in pain. "You can come by t' see her tomorrow," he compromised. Otherwise she'd probably stand out there all night arguing with Merle. "Thanks … for the kit."

          Daryl left them there and went back inside. He grabbed a bottle of water, a clean Tupperware bowl and a freshly laundered shop rag, carrying it all to set at her side. He poured the water in the bowl and then saturated the rag, wringing it out and bringing it up to her cheek. She would have pulled away had it not been for his hand at her chin to hold her steady.

          "Sorry," he apologized.

          "Not your fault." She tried to smile for him, but it turned into more of a grimace.

          He turned the full blast of his icy stare upon her as he set the rag aside. "Of course, it is! I shoulda made y' come with me weeks ago, but I wanted it t' be  _your_  choice."

          Rummaging through the kit, he found some ibuprofen tablets and handed them to her before reaching over behind him for another bottle of water. She swallowed them down easily, setting the bottle aside to cover his hands with hers. She smiled sadly when he flinched, and he tried to will himself to remain still in her loose grasp. "You're going to let me bandage these when you're done patching me up." By her tone of voice, he knew he didn't have a choice.

          Daryl glanced down at his bloody knuckles, evidence of his savagery towards her now  _ex_ -husband. He could easily take care of them himself, but he wouldn't deny her that small token of her gratitude she wished to give him.

          "I'm sorry I didn't listen, that I didn't accept your offer sooner," she continued. "I-I've just never had anyone to care before. No one's ever wanted to help me get out." A tear slid past her lashes, making her wince as it came in contact with the cut on her cheek.

          Daryl tore open an alcohol wipe and apologized beforehand. "This is gonna sting." He avoided her watery gaze, fearing he'd get lost in their azure depths. He couldn't bear the sight of her pain, not without feeling his own soul tear in two, not without sharing some of his own tortured past. And that was something he couldn't afford to do. It was enough he had to live with the memories of what he'd endured as a child. Carol was tender hearted to a fault, and he couldn't burden her with it.

          It took three steri-strips to close the wound over her delicate cheekbone. "Maybe it won't scar since you didn't have to stitch it?" she asked hopefully. "It's not like I'm vain or anything. I just wouldn't want Sophia to have to look at the reminder every day."

          He grunted in response, dousing and wringing out the rag again so he could clean the rest of her face. "Where else are y’ hurt?"

          "Really, Daryl … I'll be alright," she tried to reassure him, but he didn't seem to want to rely on her evasive reply.

          His eyes narrowed. "Where else?"

          "M-My ribs," she admitted sourly, not quite sure how to take him sometimes. "I tried to duck out of the way, but he must've anticipated it. It's what made me fall through the tent flap."

          "That all?" he asked, and he was sure she could hear the grinding of his teeth in anger.

          "No. While I was down he … he kicked me … my hip." She wiped away another bout of tears from her flushed cheeks. "I might not be very useful for a few days."

           "Fucking Christ, woman! You're not gonna be doin' shit until I'm sure you're ok." He pulled the poncho from around her shoulders, his fingers twitching as he laid it aside. "Lemme see?" he asked warily, looking up into her eyes and feeling his stomach churn with something unfamiliar. It was something he hadn't felt in years, and it nearly had him backing away from her, but he couldn't let his discomfort deter him from helping her.

Carol bit her lip and held tightly to the edges of her torn shirt, her cheeks suffusing with heat. "You wouldn't happen to have a shirt I could borrow, huh?"

          "Uh … yeah," he mumbled, turning to rummage in a milk crate where some of his shirts were stored. He handed it back to her, keeping his gaze averted to give her a bit of privacy. "Sorry ‘bout th' sleeves."

          "It's fine … more than fine, really. It's clean and it covers me, and that's all that matters." He could hear the nervous lilt in her voice and he wondered how she’d ever thought she could hide her suffering from him. He knew the signs, had experienced them himself. It wasn't easy burying the pain, so others couldn't see, and if he hadn't had firsthand knowledge, she might've been able to fool him. The rest of the quarry camp would only ever see the physical signs, but he could see the marks she carried in her marrow. He almost startled at her voice, so lost he'd become in his thoughts. "You can see now, Daryl."

          He turned back to her, kneeling close to her side, his eyes sweeping over every inch of her. The navy button-up he'd ripped the sleeves off of matched well with the little blue flowers on a backdrop of white on her cotton pants. Seeing her in his clothes, he felt a surge of possessiveness course through him. She'd only fastened the top two buttons, and seeing she had his full attention, peeled the shirt back over her ribs on the left side. However, his eyes were first drawn to her pale arms and the fading finger marks Ed had left there. They were nothing, though, compared to the dark purple fist sized bruise spreading out over the delicate skin of her ribcage.  _Gawd! How'd I never notice how thin she is?_

          "D'you think he broke anythin'? I could bind 'em for y’."

          Her lips parted on a quiet gasp as his fingers ghosted over her, her blush deepening as his eyes rose to meet hers. "N-No … I'm sure it looks worse than it is. I've always bruised easily." He looked at her dubiously. "I know what broken ribs feel like, Daryl."

          "What about your hip?" he asked, the furrow between his brows deepening. He cursed as she hooked a thumb beneath her pants and underwear, pulling it down over her right hip. "That son of a bitch!" he growled, rocking back on his knees. His hand immediately reached for the bow, and it was only Carol's soft touch on his arm which stayed his hand and held him at her side.

          "Leave him," she pleaded as she straightened her clothes and sat up. "Right now, he's probably laid up licking his wounds. He's unarmed, and if you went after him … it would be murder. You're not a murderer, Daryl Dixon."

          "How d'you know what th’ fuck I am?" he spat the words, the urge to tear the other man apart and feed him to the walkers itching fiercely beneath his skin.

          Carol reached for the first aid kit on the sleeping bag next to her and dug for the supplies she'd need to patch up his bloody knuckles. "Because of the simple fact that I'm here with you instead of with Ed. No man who would save someone like me could possibly be a cold-blooded murderer." She took his right hand – the worst of the two – and dipped it into the bowl, using her fingers to clean away most of the blood, tinging the water pink. She used her torn shirt to dry his hand before carefully applying an antibacterial ointment to the lacerated skin and wrapping it in gauze. He watched her anxiously as she did the same to his other hand. "There. All better?"

          Daryl grunted in response, nodding approvingly. He flexed both hands, happy with the give in the bandages and knowing he wouldn't have any difficulties in handling his crossbow despite the pain in his knuckles.  "It'll do. See … you're already startin' to show how valuable y' are. I'da just left them."

          Carol shook her head. "I'm afraid I'll be more of a burden to you than you think," she said sadly.

          He lowered the dial on the camp lantern and pointed to her bedroll. "Try t' get some sleep." He took his bow and made his way to the tent flap, sparing her a brief glance before leaving to sit outside on watch. "And, Carol?"

          "Hmm?" she hummed, her tear-bright eyes luminous in the dim light.

          "When I'm done with y', you won't be a burden at all. You'll be an asset."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl allowed the corner of his mouth to lift in just a quirk of a smile as he settled himself beside the softly glowing campfire not far from the entrance to his tent. Dale and Glenn – just leaving Ed's tent – looked weary, Dale's ungodly tropical print shirt stained with blood.

 _Maybe the fucker bled out_ , he mused.

          That would be the permanent end of one of Carol's problems, and really, who would mourn his loss? Sophia … maybe. He shook his head. No, though he was her father, she lived in constant fear of him. He knew that feeling all too well. Glenn gave a half-hearted wave as they set off down the path towards the RV.

          He watched as Merle came around the bend, his prized hunting rifle in the crook of his arm.  _Damn, just what I fuckin' need._  He knew he was going to have to endure his brother's questions for the better part of the next hour when all he really wanted was a moment to himself to take in what had happened.

          Merle plopped down on the ground beside him and tossed a couple of thin twigs on the embers, feeding the dying coals back to a small flame. He was all too aware of the rules Shane had put into place. He may not like them, but for Daryl's sake he'd abide by them. The boy seemed to be content to stay with this group because of the woman. If he insisted, he was sure Daryl would follow him wherever he wanted to go. It had always been that way between them, but he'd be a bastard to take him away from Carol. Especially when she'd just turned her back on everything she knew to be with him. Merle was still reeling that she'd done it, that she'd chosen a Dixon over her husband.

          He swung his gaze over to stare searchingly at his little brother. "Yer fuckin' 'er, ain'tcha?" he asked, even though just an hour ago he'd supported Daryl and Carol both when they'd denied Ed's claims.

          Daryl pulled a tube of wax from the pocket of his khakis and clucked his tongue behind his teeth in disgust. "Oh, here we go," he sighed.

          "Mouse is attractive in her own way, I s'pose," Merle said, flicking a quick look over to the tent. "Could definitely have done worse here at th’ end o’ th’ world, but y' coulda found a woman not quite so attached, if'n y' know what I mean."

           "Piss off, Merle. I'm fuckin' tired an’ I'm not in th' mood for your crap." He knew his mistake when he heard Merle laugh. He hadn't been guarded enough, had shown emotion – something a Dixon would never do unless it was disdain or sarcasm – and now he'd left himself open for ridicule. Granted, his brother was the only person brave enough to attempt it.

"Well, I'd think you'd wanna get somethin' outta th’ bargain. Because y' had t' go playin' her white knight, we're not gonna have one extra person t' drag around wi' us, but two."

          Daryl smoothed the softened wax over the string of his bow. "I thought y' liked Sophia."

          "I do," the elder Dixon admitted without the least hesitation. "She needs a good father figure in 'er life … though I know I'm th' last person who should ever try t' fill that role. I don't wanna see her hurt."

          "Then what's the problem?"

          Merle shook his head. "What if we cain't protect ‘em from what's out there?"

          Daryl stopped and gave his brother a sharp look. "What happened t' Daddy wasn't your fault, Merle. Ain't nobody's fault but his own he got bit, so stop blamin' yourself."

          "If I'da gone back – "

          "Then y' wouldn't be sittin' here wi' me now!" he snarled, angry now. They'd known after their uncle had fallen ill at the start of this thing, that it would only be a matter of time before he turned into one of those things, but the Dixon patriarch wouldn't leave his brother behind.  _Family first, boys._  Daryl shivered with revulsion as that voice reverberated in his mind. He made sure he never forgot and therefore needed another  _lesson_  from his father. "Drew was dead, there was no savin' him. If you'd've gone back for him, it was you he'd have torn apart instead of our old man. Get over it."

          "Pretty harsh, comin' from Mr. I-need-t'-save-everybody."

          He didn't feel he needed to save  _every_ body, just this one sweet woman whose crystal blue eyes looked at him as if he were a good man instead of a lowly piece of trash. "Carol needs us, Merle. She needs t' learn t' protect herself so she can protect her daughter. She wasn’t gonna make it with a useless lump like Ed as her only means for survival." His lip curled in disgust. "Knowin' him, he'd toss her t' th' walkers t' save his own ass."

          Merle chuckled and pulled the nearly empty flask from a pocket on his leather vest. "Yeah, an' you're th' one's gonna teach 'er?"  
          Daryl rolled his eyes. "Sure as hell ain't gonna be you." He heaved himself to his feet and went to the truck in search of a spare sleeping bag. He was so tired of his brother's lack of faith in his abilities. He'd been surviving on his own long enough to know how to teach another person the same skills. Fuck knew he'd had to bail Merle out of enough scrapes in the past, though his brother would staunchly deny it. He ducked his head to enter the tent, Merle's words following after him.

          "Sure hope y' know what yer doin', lil brother."

 _Yeah …so do I_.

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

          The first tinges of pink had barely touched the horizon when Carol fought to make her heavy eyes open. At first, she was confused as to why she hurt so badly or – for that matter – where she was. Then it all came flooding back to her. Ed trying to force himself on her … the overwhelming desire to refuse to let him hurt her again … her cheek exploding in pain and the force of her body falling through the tent flap … and then Daryl rushing across the camp to save her, nearly mindless with rage. Her lashes fluttered open wide, all vestiges of her previous slumber fleeing in the space of a heartbeat as she found herself staring into his all too familiar cobalt eyes. They were sleepy yet focused, concern knitting his brow as he raised a finger to his lips to silence her.

          "Shh … you're safe," Daryl drawled, his voice a deep hum as he tried to reassure her.

          Of everything she'd learned about her new friend over the course of the last month, she would have to admit she'd never expect him to want to sleep so close to her. Yet his bedroll and hers were separated by barely six inches. She winced as pain lashed at her side, and she realized the ibuprofen must've worn off hours ago.

          "How're y' feelin'?" he asked, watching her carefully. Of course, he knew she'd try to hide her discomfort from him if she could.

          "Like warmed over crap," she grumbled, a tiny smile toying at the edges of her lips. He didn't return her smile. If anything, his frown deepened. She decided it would be best to shift his focus off of her for the time being. "How 'bout you? Did you sleep at all, or have you just been lying there watching me?"

          "I slept," he replied somewhat sheepishly, unused to such concern for his own well-being. "Merle just came in from watch an' woke me. I need t' go check th' snares … see if we mighta caught somethin'. I don't want t' be too far from camp today."

          Carol frowned. "Daryl, you don't have to guard me every second. I think you made it quite clear to Ed last night to – "

          "He don't look th' type to heed a warnin' neither," he hissed. "He ain't hurtin' y’ again."

 _Oh boy …_  "I don't want to be a burden. You don't have to alter your daily routine for me. I don't want that," she insisted, her chin rising a notch in defiance. "And I can't just stay in the tent all day when there's work to be done." She ruined the effect of her newfound stubbornness when she sat up too quickly and another jolt of pain had her grabbing her side. "Ugh!"

          Daryl arched a brow and smirked smugly. "Oh, yeah … you're jus' ready t' take on th' world, ain'tcha?" Before she could swat him with her pillow, he rolled up onto his knees and crawled over to where he'd left the first aid kit, grabbing a packet of ibuprofen and a bottle of water for her.

          They were both taken by surprise when another pillow hit them both. "For fuck's sake, take it outside! Let a man sleep, wouldja?!"

          Carol reached for her thin-soled flats and pulled them onto her feet. They weren't the most practical shoes in the situation in which she'd found herself, but they were lightweight enough to sleep in if she had to. Never knowing what she'd have to endure by Ed's hand, she'd taken to wearing them to bed. If she hadn't, she'd have been left with nothing to wear when Daryl had saved her the night before. She could only guess he'd removed them from her feet when he'd made his way to his own bedroll.

          Daryl tossed the pillow back at his brother. "Shut up, y’ ass! Weren't talkin' that loud. You're worse than an old woman." He frowned up at Carol as she unsteadily climbed to her feet. "And where th' hell d'you think you're goin'?"

          "To find a convenient tree, if you don't mind," she replied flippantly

          His face heated. "Oh." She'd nearly made it out of the tent before he could finish pulling his boots on. He grabbed his crossbow and quickly followed her, keeping his distance to insure her privacy.

          She tried her best to hold back the groan of pain fighting to escape her as she went off into the tree line. There was no way she wanted him bursting through the brush to see what was wrong and finding her with her pants around her ankles. She took her time. She had to considering how sore she was, but it wasn't surprising considering how many times she'd had to do it in the past. Either Ed was getting more violent or she was feeling her age.

          "Woman!" came his worried hiss when she still hadn't emerged from the trees. "Are y' ok in there?"

          "I'm fine," she whispered as she returned to his side. "You didn't have to wait."

          "Pfft," he scoffed. "Mine t' protect, remember?"

          Carol couldn't go back to sleep after Daryl left her to go hunting. It would just be to check his snares, but she felt rather relieved he'd be sticking close to camp today instead of venturing further afield. The mountain the quarry was situated on provided all manner of game, and another deer would be more than welcome to the group, but she still felt safer knowing he’d be close by.

          She didn't like the idea of having to stay in the tent all day either. She was used to keeping busy with chores which needed to be done. She'd been a housewife for more years than she cared to contemplate, and the familiar tasks of cooking and laundry and even tidying her tent kept her from thinking about the world going to hell around them.

          Daryl had  _asked_  her to rest, to allow herself to heal. As much as he liked to claim her, he wasn't trying to be domineering like Ed had been. She knew without a doubt he'd never be anything like Ed. It was going to be a change taking care of two men instead of one – more laundry, more cooking – but she couldn't say she minded. There was a sense of peace being with the brothers, a lack of fear that every action she made would be met with a violent  _re_ action.

          "Carol?" she heard at the tent flap. "Carol, it's Lori … may I come in?"

          "Sure, Lori," Carol said, lifting the flap so she could enter. She wasn't expecting Andrea and Jacqui to be with her. "Um … where's Sophia?"

          "Oh, she's um, still sleeping. Don't worry," Lori added when she saw the concerned look on her friend's waxen features. "Shane and Dale are nearby and have strict instructions to keep them there in my tent until I get back."

          Andrea winced as she took in the bruises on Carol's cheek and jaw. "How are you?"

          Carol snorted and moved to sit on Daryl's bedroll. "Well, judging by your expression, I'm hoping I feel better than I look."

          "I hope so too," Jacqui said, taking a seat next to her.

          Merle sat up in his sleeping bag and scowled at them. "What th' fuck is this? A hen party?! It's getting' t' where a man cain't get no sleep in this camp."

          Mirth danced in Carol's eyes as she looked over at him and saw he wasn't really mad. "Merle if you go down to Dale's and get me a can of tinned tomatoes, I'll make that relish you like so much to go with your toast."

          A wide grin spread over his face. "Wellll …" he drawled. "At least m' new sister has some respect fer me." He figured there would be no harm to leave her alone for a moment since she had her friends there with her. And if he could get one of his favorite treats in the bargain, so be it. "All's y' need is th' tomatoes?"

          Carol nodded, already having inventoried the small crate of supplies they kept in the tent. It took him but a moment to pull on his boots and leave to do her bidding.

          Then the barrage of questions began …

          "Have you lost your mind?!"

          "How hard did Ed hit you to make you shack up with the Dixon brothers?"

          "Girl, you been holdin' out on us … how is he in bed?"

          "Please just tell us it's not Merle you're involved with," Andrea groaned.

          Carol gaped at her three friends and then crossed her arms defensively over her chest. Why should she have to explain her motivation for accepting Daryl's offer of help? Especially since the three women before her looked like no matter what she said, it would be the wrong answer.  "There's nothing wrong with Merle, Andrea," she said coolly, "and I'm not having sex with either of them. Both he and Daryl are hotheaded and coarse, but I stand by my conviction. They're two of the best men I know. They'd never lay a harmful hand on either me  _or_ Sophia."

          Jacqui reached out and squeezed Carol's hand as she rested them back on her lap. "But how do you know that? That's a lot of blind faith."

          Lori gave them all an owl-eyed stare. "You've barely known them a month!"

          "How well do any of us know one another?" Carol asked in a quiet tone. "We all met on the road while Atlanta was being bombed. We took a chance and stuck together to find this place. We've lived here together and tried to eke out an existence while we're terrified those things are going to come for us. Now be honest … would you have thought Ed was the real monster when you first met him? If he can be as he is, couldn't you admit you might be wrong about Daryl and Merle?"

          Andrea shook her head. "You're still taking an awfully big chance."

          "No more than the rest of us. Dale let them stay. Apparently, he didn't view them as a threat," Jacqui argued. "Carol's right. We have to all trust each other."

          "I've gotten to know Daryl over the past several weeks. He's a good man and I have faith in him." She looked down at her hands and closed her eyes for a moment, remembering how he'd practically begged her to let him help her. "He saved me. If you think about it, he was the only one who could."  _Or would,_  she added silently.

          Lori still wasn't convinced. "You can come and stay in our tent with me and Carl," she offered.

          Carol slowly shook her head. Even after only one night, she felt a part of something new and special, a sense of belonging, and she knew she didn't want to give that up. It wasn't going to be easy … far from it, but it was  _right_. "Thanks, Lori, but I can't."

          "If you change your mind …"

          Daryl set the bag holding his kills on the outdoor table beside his crossbow and made his way silently to the tent flap, his stealth just a part of who he was after so many years spent in the forest fending for himself. He paused, a furrow appearing between his brows when he heard voices coming from within. His gut clenched when he recognized those voices as belonging to Carol's friends. Had they come to talk her into leaving? Into leaving  _him_? Would they make her see he wasn't good enough to care for her well-being? His hands balled into fists at his side, ready to storm into the nylon structure and toss those biddies out on their asses. They couldn't have her! And then her next words drifted out to him and knocked the breath from his body.  _He's a good man and I have faith in him._

          Did she really believe that, or was she just trying to make her friends feel better about her situation? He knew he and Merle were no prize, and it would be more than a little difficult for her to adjust to living with them, but did she really think they were more than what everyone thought them to be? It made his stomach twist and churn, but it was different than what he'd ever experienced before. If he didn't know better, he'd think it was the first stirrings of hope. Hope he could make her life a little better.

          He didn't have time to dwell on it, however, as he heard Merle coming up the path, a chattering Sophia at his side. "Where's mama? Is she still in our tent? Is she sick? Why didn't she come for me this morning? Why'd she send you to get me?"

          Merle scrubbed a hand over his face in exasperation. "Girly, I'm about two seconds away from getting' out th' duct tape fer that mouth o' yers. I toldja she'd explain when we got here."

          Sophia closed her mouth for all of five seconds, pursing her lips in a pout. Then she was off again. "Is she ok?" She lowered her voice, a tremor emanating deep in her vocal chords. "D-Did daddy hurt her again?"

          "Hey, Soph," Daryl called to her, saving his brother from having to answer that. "Didja have fun with Carl last night?"

          "Yeah, we played Uno and I totally kicked his butt," she grinned unrepentantly.

          Merle sent his brother a grateful look before turning to the women who were filing out of the tent. "Ladies," he drawled, though his gaze was drawn to Andrea as she stepped past him. He winked at Daryl as she cast Merle a look of disgust. "Hate t' see y' go, but damn …  _love_ t' watch y' leave."

          Daryl rolled his eyes and held the tent flap open. "G'on, Soph. Your mama's inside." He followed her as she dashed inside, letting the flap close behind them, leaving Merle outside. He frowned darkly as the little girl took one look at her mother and burst into tears.

          His eyes met Carol's as she held her arms open for her daughter. "Easy, love," she crooned, wincing when Sophia hugged her a bit too tightly.

          "She's hurt, Soph, so be gentle," he warned, shifting restlessly on the balls of his feet. Carol patted the sleeping bag he'd used that morning, urging him to sit next to them. After a moment, he finally did as she bid.

          The girl eased her grip and turned her watery gaze up to her mother. "Oh, mama, I'm sorry."

          "Baby, you don't have anything to be sorry for."

          "If I had stayed with you, maybe …"

          Daryl stared hard at Sophia, anger flaring in his chest. "It's not your fault. If you'd have stayed with her, y' probably woulda gotten hurt too."

          Carol nodded, trying to muster a brave smile for her daughter. "He's right, Sophia, and I didn't want that. But you don't have to worry about him hurting us again."

          Sophia sat up and dried her tears on the back of her hand. "What … why? And why are you here?"

          "Daryl saved me. He asked me to come and stay with him and Merle … to be a part of their family. They're going to protect us from your father."

          The girl's eyes widened before her entire face broke out into a grin. "Really?! We get to stay? I need to go get my stuff! This is so cool … I can't wait to tell Carl."

          Merle caught her, his fingers gently curling around her upper arms as he came into the tent, preventing her from leaving. "Whoa there, Peach, where y' think yer goin'?"

          "To get my stuff from our tent."

          "Sophia," her mother said, her tone distressed. She didn't want her girl to see the sorry state of her father. "I don't think that's such a good idea right now. Why don't we have some breakfast first."

          The blonde nodded and set about exploring her new home. It wasn't much, but she was curious by nature and there would be no deterring her.

          Daryl leaned closer to Carol, his voice low. "You're afraid t' go back for your things?" He ground his teeth furiously when she nodded. "Don't be. Me an' Merle'll go get them."

          "So you can shoot him in the other cheek?" she asked with a knowing smirk.

          "Only if he opens his mouth," he shot back.

          "You might want to ask Shane or Dale if they'll help you. Might be easier that way." She didn't want Ed to say anything to rile her hunter up even more. Daryl's temper was a ticking time bomb and the fuse was mighty short.

 

*.*.*

 

          "Leave it, woman," Daryl barked as she reached for the tin plates they'd dirtied at breakfast. "Me and Sophia can take care of this. Go rest and let your body heal."

          "Yeah, Mom, we got this," the girl chirped happily, already gathering up the dishes and dumping them in the wash basin. Daryl had already filled it with water for her.

          "I'm not an invalid," Carol grumbled.

           "Hey, we let y' cook breakfast, didn't we?" Merle piped in. "Damn stubborn woman."

"I suppose you'd rather me be a simpering belle good for nothing but filing my nails and fluttering a fan?" Carol asked, barely able to hold back her laughter at his horror-stricken expression.

          "Gawd, no!" He shot to his feet and rubbed his greasy fingers on his jeans. "Alright, I'ma see if I can round up Shane and Dale t' go an' get yer things."

          "Inside, woman … now," Daryl ordered in a gentle tone. It wasn't often she heard him speak like that to anyone but her, and she was learning a healthy appreciation for it. "You need rest."

          She turned her head to look at his profile as he sat down next to her and pulled his crossbow to rest on his lap. His focus was trained on the tent she'd shared with her husband and daughter up until yesterday, no doubt anticipating trouble from Ed when the others arrived to fetch her things. When she still hadn't moved, he swung his gaze to her with an exasperated sigh.

          "Can't I stay here with you?" she asked.

          "What's wrong with the tent now?"

          "Nothing."

          "Carol …"

          "I might be a little claustrophobic," she admitted. She ducked her head and sighed. "Sophia and I had to hide in a closet more than once, Daryl, and confined spaces are not my friend. I doubt I'd be able to sleep during the day anyhow because I'm so used to being active with the chores which need to be done in this camp."

          Heat rose in her face at the confession. She didn't know why she felt the need to confide these little snippets of her past with someone she was only now getting to know, why she trusted him so much already. She watched the muscle work in his jaw as he chewed the inside of his lower lip, her gaze dropping to watch the rippling muscles of his forearms as he clenched and released his balled fists. It wasn't hard to tell he wanted to bolt across the path and beat Ed to a pulp … again.

          Carol sighed. "I'm going to have to get back to work tomorrow. It's not good to let the laundry go for more than a day."

          "Christ, woman! None of that shit matters," he cursed, trying to keep his voice down so as not to upset Sophia.

          "Yes, it does. The children deserve a bit of normalcy in this craziness. I have to try … for her. Even before," she choked out around the lump in her throat, "I tried to pretend."

          "Pretending now is a surefire way t' get your ass killed," he growled. "No more pretending. I need t' know you're goin' t' be honest with me. You're our family now. We'll help y' get strong, teach y' how t' fight, t' survive, but I gotta know you'll be honest with me."

          He could see the determination in her eyes as she nodded. "Always, Daryl. I promise not to disappoint you," she murmured, blinking rapidly to stem a fresh flood of tears. How could she not promise him honesty when he'd already done so much for her and her daughter.

          Daryl was quiet for a long time, comfortable with the silence between them. When her head dropped against his shoulder and he could hear her even breaths as they puffed softly against his bare arm, his lips curled into a smug smirk. Just as he'd thought, the stress and strain had been too much to resist. Her body needed rest even as her mind argued the point. Carefully, without waking her, he lifted her into his arms and carried her back inside

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

          "You've gotta be fuckin' shittin’ me!"

          Carol frowned, on the cusp of sleep and waking, Daryl's angry voice was the only one she could discern. She opened her eyes and dragged a hand over her sweaty brow, wondering how she'd come to be in the tent once again. The last thing she could recall was sitting next to Daryl outside. Her gaze trailed over the nylon floor of the tent over to the zippered entrance and tried to focus on the voices outside.

          "Daryl, man, you've got to calm down. Killing Ed isn't going to help anything, and then you'd have to look that little girl in the eye every day knowing you killed her father." She recognized Shane's voice next, trying to diffuse the situation. Good Lord, what had Ed done now, she wondered.

          "I really don't have a problem with that!"

          "Well, if'n you won't let us kill 'im, what say we send 'im on his merry way and let 'im fend fer 'imself," Merle hissed angrily. "Mouse has been through enough without th' fucker makin' it worse."

          "How much worse could he do, brother?"

          "Look," Dale intervened. "We cannot send a defenseless man out into that. Don't look at me like that, you three. You have to admit he wouldn't last five minutes out there alone. It would be murder!"

          "That's th' point, old man," Merle retorted, grinning maliciously.

          Shane raked a frustrated hand over his face. "We're all going to have to make sure Ed stays away from Carol and her girl."

           "Yeah, that's goin' to be easy, ain't it? How're we goin' t’ watch them every minute?".

 Carol could hear the threat in Daryl's voice, and frankly she was frightened. "Daryl!" she called. She needed his reassurance just then, and to find out what had started this up again. It should be over. Ed had been warned off in the most pointed way imaginable. He should no longer be a problem. Apparently, the man had a death wish.

He couldn't meet her eyes when he entered the tent. He stayed near the entrance, shuffling with nervous energy on the balls of his feet.

           "Tell me what's going on, Daryl. What's happened?" she asked, her eyes demanding answers no matter how badly they might upset her.

"Ed needs t' fuckin' die, that's what!"

          Merle came in behind him, his features twisted into a mask almost as dark as the one his brother wore. "Hi there, little darlin'."

          Carol arched a brow at him. "What happened with Ed?" she asked calmly, reaching out to take the two duffel bags from Merle. Or she would have if he hadn't pulled them back. "Are either of you going to tell me, or do I have to go ask Ed?"

           "You ain't goin' nowhere, woman!" Daryl growled, his voice rising. He knew it was an empty threat. She would never willingly put herself in that situation again.

Merle grimaced and tossed the bags down beside her before sitting on his own bedroll. Thankfully, Sophia wasn't there to witness this new travesty. Daryl had given her permission to go on down to play with Carl and the Morales children as long as she didn't leave Lori or Teresa's sight.

          When neither of them would give her the answers she sought, she pulled the first of the two bags towards her, pulling back the zipper. Inside were the remnants of everything she owned, each and every article of clothing left of her former life shredded with what looked like Ed's buck knife. Despite her resolve to be strong, Carol promptly burst into tears.

          "Awwwww, fuck no!" Merle cursed, bounding out of his bedroll and heading for the exit.

          Daryl caught his arm, blocking the tent flap with a panicked gleam in his eyes. "Where th' hell y' think you're goin'?"

          "I don't do tears, bro. You're on yer own. Lemme know when yer ready t' fix this shit an' I'm there."

 _Shit shit shit!_  "Carol?" He took a tentative step towards her. She cried harder. It was a mistake … he knew it was the moment the thought entered his head, but it was too late. He couldn't stand to see her hurting. He dropped to his knees next to her and reached out to lay a hand to her shoulder, patting awkwardly. "Don't cry, please?"

           She leaned into him, and he waited for the familiar ache to break out in goosebumps over his skin at her touch. He waited for his limbs to freeze and his heart to race, for the air to grow stagnant in his lungs with his inability to breathe. But it never came, even when her arms wrapped about his waist and her tear-stained face burrowed against his chest. She felt  _good_. Right. Made for his arms alone. He forced himself to breathe and was assailed by her scent as his arms rose of their own accord to wrap around her. God, she smelled good … all ivory soap and sweet musk. He bit back a groan. What the fuck was wrong with him? She was hurt – both physically  _and_  emotionally – and here he was thinking about how good she felt in his arms.  _Really low, Dixon._  He just couldn't remember touch without some form of pain. He could have gone the rest of his life without another's touch. Yet here he was at the end of the world, finding something else to fuck with his head. He had to do something …

"I'm gonna fix this, Carol," he found himself promising. "I'm gonna make this right, ok?" He surprised himself by brushing his fingers over her damp cheeks to dry her tears. "No more tears, woman; no more pain from that bastard. I  _will_  fix this."

 

*.*.*

 

          "Y'all have lost your minds," Dale screeched, his voice carrying through the camp as Daryl loaded the truck. Carol and Sophia were already in the cab and Merle was readying his bike. "You can't take them out there not knowing what to expect. Sophia is a child!"

          "Back off, old man," Daryl growled as he put the extra fuel can in the back with two more empties. "I'm not gonna let anything happen t' them. We'll be back in a couple of hours."

          Shane leaned against the open window on the passenger side. "Carol, you don't have to do this. We can pull our resources together – "

          She glanced down at Sophia's dirty pants – the children had played rough that day – and her own borrowed jeans. Daryl had ripped the back of the shirt he'd given her the night before and Andrea had tied the trailing ends in a flattering manner, making it fit much better, but she needed more and so did her daughter. "Not like I have a choice here, Shane. Everyone is already down to the bare necessities. We'll be fine. Daryl and Merle will protect us."

          "This is insane!" Dale's meltdown continued as Merle turned the key on the bike and throttled the engine, drowning him out.

          "Shane, just trust we'll be back," she tried to reassure him.

          "But you and Sophia can stay with us while they're gone," he continued to argue.

          "Daryl doesn't trust you to keep us safe." There, she'd said it. His crestfallen expression made her feel a bit guilty. She grabbed his wrist before he could step away from the truck. "Watch Ed while we're gone, Shane. Don't underestimate him just because he's injured."

          "C'mon, boy, we goin' or what? Daylight's burning!" Merle called, revving the bike impatiently.

          "We're comin', Merle … soon as Deputy Dawg here gets up offa my truck." Daryl gave Shane a quelling look until the man glared back and took a step away from the truck.

          Carol watched him as he climbed into the truck and stuck the key into the ignition. It rumbled to life and with a "Roll the damn window up in case we run into any walkers," they set off down the mountain and onto the highway.

          "Where we going, Daryl? Is it going to take us long to get there? What kinda stuff are we going to get? Merle wouldn't tell me nothin' before we left." Sophia went on and on until Daryl was chewing anxiously on his thumb.

          "Sophia, stop. I'm sure we'll find out soon enough," Carol admonished gently as she stroked her daughter's hair. "Don't be scared."

          The girl shook her head. "Oh, I'm not, mom. Daryl won't let anything happen to us." She turned her face up to grin at her mother. "He's our hero."

          Daryl kept his eyes on the road, making sure he kept Merle in his sights. "I ain't nobody's hero, girl," he mumbled. All his life it had been drummed into his head, and worse yet … into his flesh.  _Worthless, no good, useless, no woman would ever want him because he was filthy white trash._  No, he would never be  _anyone's_  hero.

          He couldn't escape the soft look in those big blue eyes. "You're  _my_  hero … and mama's. You made us a part of your family, and that makes you much better than all those superheroes in Carl's stupid comic books."

          Daryl felt his chest tighten as he forced his eyes back to the road. The little princess already had his brother wrapped around her finger, and if he wasn't careful, she'd do the same thing to him. He flinched when she laid her head on his arm, but he didn't snap at her for touching him. Just like with her mother, it didn't send him into a wild state of panic. In fact, it was kind of nice.

 

*.*.*

 

          "What is this place?" Carol asked as Merle led them into a gravel parking lot outside a rustic looking store on the outskirts of a small town. When they'd driven through, she'd been able to make out a church, post office and even one small gas station, but not much else. The rest of the buildings consisted of rather run down residential homes, most of them mobile. Not surprisingly, there had been very few walkers. She'd been glad Sophia had dozed off and didn't have to see them shambling along the road. Merle hadn't been concerned apparently, driving around them instead of stopping to dispose of them.

          Daryl nudged Sophia awake and opened the door of the truck as Merle approached. "We should be able t' get what we need here. Owner's a friend of ours. He's a closet survivalist.  _If_  he made it." He sighed and shook his head. "Never thought his conspiracy theories held much weight." He felt like a dumbass to think he'd scoffed – repeatedly – at the man's wild stories. Weren't so wild now, he supposed.

          He climbed out of the truck and reached for his crossbow, shouldering the strap before nodding to Sophia. She dropped to the ground and hurried over to Merle, tucking her fingers in a belt loop on his jeans. Daryl had made it clear she was to stick with him, so he could keep her safe until they knew there was no danger. Carol would be with him.

          "This is a store?" Carol asked dubiously. It looked like a large log cabin, the windows boarded up, the steps crooked. There wasn't even a sign with the business's name on it.

          "It ain't th' Walmart, darlin', but it'll do," Merle smirked.

          Carol smiled tightly, her muscles wound tight with nerves. She did as Sophia had done with Merle and slipped her fingers through a belt loop on Daryl's jeans. She felt him shiver as her hand brushed over the bare skin above his waistband under his shirt.  _Well, if he doesn't like it, maybe he should tuck his shirt in. Not my fault_ , she mused.

          Before they'd taken more than a half dozen steps, an arrow - much like the ones Daryl used for his crossbow - struck the ground at Merle's feet. "Th' fuck?!"

          "I'd hold it right there if'n I was you, mister."

          "Woman! Th' hell y' doin' up there shootin' at people for?" he shouted to the young woman on the roof of the building. At least she'd lowered the bow.

          "Merle?" she called down, trying to shield her eyes from the sun at their backs.

          "Yeah, it's me, Sugar."

          "That Daryl with you?"

          Merle rolled his eyes. "You gonna let us in, or stand there jawing all day?"

          Daryl swung the crossbow around until it was aimed at his brother. It wouldn't be the first time he'd shot him. "Merle, we're fuckin' exposed out here, y’ ass! Do your damn sweet talkin' later and get us inside."

          "Oh, quit yer naggin'," he grumbled. He turned back to the woman, his grin widening. "Come on, darlin', and let us in."

          Daryl scanned the trees, outbuildings and the vacant street while he waited, nervously chewing on the inside of his lower lip. What the hell was wrong with him, he wondered. Then he felt Carol tremble at his back and he instantly knew. It wasn't himself he was so worried about, but her. Her and Sophia, though the girl was in no immediate danger. He was rather certain Merle wouldn't let any harm come to her. Otherwise Daryl wouldn't have entrusted her into his care. Finally, a rope ladder descended over the side of the building and his brother was pushing Sophia towards it.

          "There y' go, Peach. Show ol' Merle how y' can get up that ladder faster than a spider monkey." After she was on her way, he practically had to rip Carol off of Daryl's back – her grip was so tight – and send her clambering after Sophia. He gave Daryl a look in askance. "We good?"

          "Yeah, go. Right behind y’."

          Carol stared at the young woman. She must've been in her mid-thirties with long coal black hair and dark green eyes. The woman wore tight faded jeans, combat boots and a camouflaged t shirt under a worn leather vest. Carol knew she wasn't going to win any beauty contests, but she felt downright frumpy next to this girl. She was further surprised to see her sling her bow over her shoulder and practically leap into Merle Dixon's arms as he cleared the roof.

          Daryl grumbled something derogatory under his breath as he pulled himself up and witnessed his brother with his tongue half way down their friend's throat. He ignored them and made his way over to Carol. "Y’ ok?"

          "Um … yeah, we're fine." A blush stained her cheeks but otherwise she truly was fine. "Is that Merle's girlfriend?"

          "Nah, jus’ a friend. That's Martine; Marty for short," he supplied. "Merle knock it off. We need t' be back before dark."

 _Marty_  broke off the kiss and grinned widely at Daryl. "I expected you boys weeks ago. Thought sure y'all would at least come out to check on us. Haven't even seen your daddy or Drew."

          Carol saw how Daryl stiffened at the mention of his father and couldn't help but wonder over the story there. He turned away from the girl who was still standing there with Merle's arm around her waist and marched across the roof to the open hatch which led down into the store. "Soph, Carol, c'mere."

          "Did I say somethin' wrong?" Marty asked as Merle sighed and moved to follow.

          "They didn't make it," was all he said as he pushed past her to watch Daryl descend through the hatch.

          "What happened?" One look from his flinty steel blue eyes had her recoiling and changing the subject. "So, what's been going on? Y'all got a place to stay ‘til all this dies down?"

          Carol stared down into the darkened hole and felt the air stutter painfully in her chest. All she could see was the top of Daryl's head and the faint glow of his cobalt eyes as he called up to her. "C'mon, woman. We got shoppin' to do. Carol, what's wrong?"

          God, how she hated to appear so weak in front of him. Thankfully, she had Sophia there at her back and Daryl climbing back up to get her. He'd suddenly remembered her fear of small dark places.

          "Mom, it's ok. I'll come down after you. You go ahead with Daryl," Sophia encouraged her.

          She still felt like an idiot. It wasn't her fault she was this way, but she hated it nonetheless. Then there was Daryl, taking her hand and steadying her on the ladder. His arms came around her and she shivered, the warm weight of his chest searing her back. She bit her lip as his breath tickled her ear and his voice woke a desire within her she doubted she'd ever felt before. At least she couldn't remember ever feeling such need before.

          "I've got y’ … one step at a time," that sinful voice purred low and sweet in her ear. She faltered when Sophia looked down and blocked out the light.

          A whimper escaped her throat, and her fingers white-knuckled around the rungs. "I-I can't," she managed in an agonized whisper.

          "Oh shit! Merle!" Daryl yelled, seeing her distress. "Merle, she's hyperventilating. What th' fuck am I s'posed t’ do?"

          Merle stuck his head in the hatch, blocking even more of the light. "How th' hell am I s'posed t’ know? Let 'er pass out an' then carry her th' rest of th' way down."

          He inched back up the ladder until his body was flush with hers.  _Oh, so not a good idea_ , he groaned inwardly as she aligned perfectly with him, her soft curves hitting him in all the right spots. "Calm down!" he growled a little more harshly than he'd intended. Why did she have to feel so damn good? He took a deep breath to calm his own pounding heart and maneuvered his lips right next to her ear. "Carol?"

          His only answer was her panting whimper in the dark.

           "Breathe, woman … deep breaths. Close your eyes an' lean back into me." She stopped breathing altogether as his warm palm settled over her belly. "Breathe." At least she wasn't hyperventilating any longer.

She felt inflamed as she leaned back into him, but she finally dragged air into her lungs. "D-Daryl …"

          "Good girl," he praised, keeping his voice low so his brother couldn't hear from his vantage point above them. "I want y' to listen t’ me, ok?" She nodded, her head lolling on his shoulder until her face nestled into the crook of his neck. "Picture th' lake back at th' quarry," he cajoled, low and deep, almost a monotone of reassurance. "Can y' see it?"

          "Y-Yes."

          "It's wide an' open, isn't it?" God, he felt like a fucking idiot, but he couldn't just let her pass out on him. He had to help her, but he had to wonder if it was just to get her down the damn ladder … or something which ran a bit deeper. They were definitely going out the front door. He didn't give a good goddamn if he had to wade through an entire herd of walkers to get her to the truck. Crap! She wasn't relaxing. "Carol, keep picturin’ the water, ok. You can almost reach out t’ touch it."

 

*,*,*

 

          She gasped as his hand slid down the length of her thigh to hook behind her right knee. It was getting difficult to do as he asked when his hands were wandering, but she didn't resist when he moved her foot down to the next rung. How long – if ever – had it been since she'd felt a gentle touch from a man? "There … see, you're dipping your foot into th' water. You can almost feel how warm it is, cain't y’?"

          Carol began to move with him, the velvet texture of his voice and the strong arms wrapped around her, guiding her to do his bidding. "So good," she murmured, and she was sure he couldn't mistake her lips curling into a smile against his warm neck. Hand under hand, one step after another as she let her mind play into Daryl's little fantasy.

          Daryl's voice dropped in timbre and he rested his head briefly on her shoulder. Whether he needed the respite or had only paused that infinitesimal moment for her benefit, she didn't know. He gave her focus and the strength to push aside her fear, to be brave with him at her side. Ed couldn't hurt her here with Daryl, no matter how dark, no matter how small the space. It was actually possible for her mind to let go of the fear.

          "Almost there, woman," he whispered roughly, never breaking stride, keeping to the steady pace he'd set for them in their descent. "Just remember the lake, the sun on your skin, the warmth of the water … What else do you see? Are you content? Happy?"

          "Mmm … yes. So happy."

          His hand fell away from her belly, and she instantly missed the comforting contact. "Open your eyes. We're down."

          Carol did as he instructed as he took a step away from her. Not only had they made it down through the shaft, but he'd led her out into the dimly lit open space of the main floor of the store. "Daryl … how did you know – "

          "Wasn't nothin' … just somethin' my counselor in school used t' use on me when she was tryin' t' get me t' talk about m' feelin's." He smirked down at her. "Always made for th' best naps. Just … don't tell nobody, ok?"

 _Nobody meaning Merle,_  she thought. "I won’t and thank you."

          Daryl nodded and ventured further into the store as Sophia came bounding into the room to find her mother. "Mom, are you ok?" the girl asked, throwing her arms around Carol. "Even I felt a little cramped in there."

          Before she could answer, Merle and Marty finally made their way into the room. And what a room it was. There were racks of clothes, mostly what looked to be hunting apparel, and the walls held any and all manner of weapon anyone could want. Then there were display cases with more knives and ammo than she thought possible. It had to be the equivalent of freakin' Disneyworld to the Dixon brothers.

          "So, whatcha of a mind for, Merle … and one better," the svelte raven-haired woman purred. "Whatcha got t' trade?"

          Carol blushed at the blatant invitation in the woman's voice, her cheeks flaming as she averted her gaze. She was taken aback when she noticed her daughter, however. Sophia had crossed her arms over her chest and was glaring at the woman with so much heat Marty should have burst into flames on the spot. What further stunned her was when her daughter stalked across the distance separating them and planted herself at Merle's side, slipping her hand into his much larger one.

          "Whatcha need, Peach?" Merle asked, dragging his gaze away from Marty's ample cleavage, shaking himself mentally. "Somethin' wrong?"

          Carol covered her mouth with her hand as she watched Sophia turn a doe-eyed look on her favorite redneck. What the hell was she playing at, she wondered. "No," her daughter said. "I just feel safer when I'm with you is all."

          Merle grinned down at the girl, his lips stretching into something warm and genuine instead of the caustic smirk he usually reserved for everyone else. "Ain't got a problem with that. Y’ can stay wi' me as long as it's a'right with your mama."

          Carol nodded jerkily as Sophia turned to ask permission, knowing for a fact – especially from what she'd just witnessed –she would be safe with him. So lost in her newest quandary, she nearly jumped out of her skin when Daryl touched her shoulder to get her attention. "C'mon, I know where th' good stuff is hidden. Let Merle haggle with Martine for a while."

 

*.*.*

 

          Merle watched them go before turning back to the woman in front of him. It had been a while since he'd seen her – months, in fact – but he was not finding her as alluring as he once had. Fuck knew she was still as gorgeous as she had always been, but apparently his desire for her had waned. He wasn't as stupid as people seemed to think either. He knew very well what she wanted to 'trade', and now she was silently fuming because Sophia – god bless her – had thrown a monkey wrench into her plans. He needed to be focused on his family.  _Gawd! I'm goin' soft, for fuck's sake._

          "Sorry, darlin', ain't got nothin' t' trade on me right now," he drawled. "And considerin' that favor we did y' a while back, I'd say y' owe me."

          "Fine," she pouted, crossing her arms over her breasts as her mind went briefly back to the time the brothers had saved her ass from her abusive ex-boyfriend. She'd thought Daryl was going to kill him that night. "Take whatcha need. Not like I'ma be able t' sell it."

          "That's th' spirit," Merle chortled. He glanced down at Sophia. "Go an' tell 'em t' stock up on everythin' we need, a'ight, Peach? Then come right back."

          Marty stared after the girl as Sophia ran off to do as Merle had asked. "Not like you t' be babysittin'," she stated bluntly, arching a brow at him. "What's th' story with th' kid?"

          Merle leaned a hip against a display case, perusing the knives inside. "Daryl."

          "That's all yer gonna give me? 'Daryl'?" she grumbled, making air quotes with her fingers.

          "You know what he's like when 'e sets 'is mind t' somethin'." He sighed. "Carol and her daughter were in a bad way, an' he just sort of adopted 'em into th' family. They're Dixons now, if y' can believe it."

          "And you're ok with that?" she asked incredulously. "I thought it was jus' you and him against the world."

          Merle frowned darkly and let his eyes search out the girl who'd wrapped herself around his heart in such a short time. "Yeah … well things change."

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

          Daryl was surprised the woman actually caught the canvas backpack he tossed her way. After so much abuse at the hands of her bastard husband – ex-husband, he corrected himself – it surprised him when she didn't flinch away from the seemingly harmless projectile. He'd be wary of things thrown at him. "This one's for y’. Try to limit it t' about three sets of clothes. Roll 'em tight; don't fold 'em. Takes up less room. You want t' be able to keep everythin' packed in case we have t' leave in a hurry. I'll show y' when we get back t' camp if y' want."

          He kept the crossbow at the ready, not trusting Marty or any of her family to have secured the store very well. All he needed was to be caught off guard once. Then what would happen to Carol and Sophia? He threw a disgusted glare in his brother's direction across the wide room where he was immersed in conversation with the raven-haired woman. Trust had never been something which had come easy to him, and he had more than one reason to distrust that one. The one highest on his list was the indisputable fact she supplied Merle with more than half of his drug supply. It was never a good idea for them to be in each other's company, in his opinion. Even now he could see the blown pupil's the woman sported. She must be buzzing good. He really hoped Merle didn't try to score something with Sophia right there next to him. Drugs or otherwise.

          Daryl chucked a backpack across the store and smacked his brother with it across the back of his head. "Oy! Get Sophia movin'."

          Merle cursed and swung his head around to scowl blackly at his brother. "Cain't y' see I'm tryin' t' do business here!?" He winked down at Sophia. "G'on, Peach," he said in a gentler tone, retrieving the pack and handing it to her. "Find some stuff y' like and load it in there, ok?"

          "I want that," she squeaked out, her eyes riveted to the wall behind the counter. When he arched a brow, she pointed to the shiny black recurve bow hanging there. "It's not as cool as Daryl's crossbow, but I want to learn how to protect us too."

          "Is she fer real?" Marty asked, her brows shooting up towards her hairline. "She's just a kid."

          Merle watched her shrewdly, was still studying her as Daryl and Carol came over to see what was going on. "Y' think y' could handle a weapon like that?"

          "Do you?" she countered. "If you teach me, I  _know_  I could."

          Daryl clenched his teeth, feeling the weight of Carol's stare. It was making him uncomfortable, as if she were waiting for him to discourage Merle from allowing Sophia to have a weapon. Why did she think he had any influence on his brother? And why the hell would she look to him for guidance with her own kid?

          Then Merle surprised them both by turning a questioning look up at the girl's mother. "Up t' you, mouse. Lot less dangerous than givin' 'er a gun."

          "Please, mom? I don't want to be coddled any more … like Carl." As much as she loved her friend, she didn't want Carol to continue to hover protectively over her like Lori did with Carl. She wanted to do her part and be able to contribute to her new family … and that included being able to protect herself and them. "I want to be strong like Merle and Daryl. I know you want that for yourself, and if you're gonna learn to take care of yourself, then I should be able to learn too," she declared, her mouth finally closing and pressing into a stubborn line.

          "I think I'm startin' t' like her; she's ballsy!"

          "Shut up, Marty!" both the brothers growled in unison.

          Carol crossed her arms over her chest, biting at her lip as she looked between the wall of weapons and her daughter's hopeful gaze. "Daryl, do you think she could handle it?" Merle may be her daughter's choice of friend – and she'd never seek to break them up after the man had gotten her to come out of her shell of despair – but Daryl was hers, and she trusted him.

          He shifted his feet in agitation and shrugged. "She's gotta learn sometimes I s'pose. Merle taught me," he mumbled, uncomfortable once more to be the focus of everyone's attention. "I turned out ok."

          "Family, mouse. We all gotta protect each other," the elder Dixon said, his big hands curled over Sophia's shoulders in a show of support for her daughter's decision.

          "You're right," Carol smiled, taking a deep breath and squaring her own shoulders. "In this new nightmare we can't afford to be defenseless."

          Sophia squealed in delight.

          "A'right, now let's get what we need an' get th’ hell outta here." Merle dragged Sophia behind the counter and lifted the ebony bow down from the wall, placing it into her hands. "Daryl, get over here an' let's get started with the weapons. Marty can help Carol pack up some clothes an’ supplies."

          Daryl's eyes narrowed, not at all liking the thought of Carol out of his line of sight. "Merle – "

          "Don't 'Merle' me, Darylina. Get a move on!"

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol repressed a shudder as she followed the young woman down into the 'bunker' below the store by way of a rickety wooden staircase. Her mouth fell open as she took in the living area complete with a large flat screen TV and a DVD collection to put Blockbuster to shame. Comfortable leather couches, a recliner, a cheery woven rug over what looked to be a polished wooden floor in the dim light. "Do you … uhm … live here alone?"

          Marty led her through the living area, past a bedroom with bunk beds, another with a large queen size bed, and a bathroom. "Nah … m' brothers are out on a run. Daddy got bit not too long before Atlanta was bombed so it's just me, Randy, and Digger. I'd offer ya'll a place with us, but Daryl don't take much to th' indoors, if y' know what I mean."

          Carol smiled slightly. Next, she was led down the corridor into a huge storage area where shelves lined the wall filled with all manner of canned goods. Against one wall was a generator, and next to it were several drums which she could only assume were filled with fuel. "Daryl mentioned the owner being a survivalist. I guess he wasn't kidding."

          "This ain't nothin’. We've got two more rooms just like this. Got enough stuff t' outlast th' deaders," Marty said proudly. "C'mon, I got some suitcases th' boys brought back I haven't gone through yet. Might be able t' find some underthings for you and yer girl."

          Carol set her bag down next to her as Marty dragged several suitcases over to them. Upstairs she'd been able to find several pairs of jeans and a pair of brown cargo pants she'd fallen in love with, along with a few tank tops and a black button up. She'd even found a pair of boots, which were much more sensible than the flats she wore now. She knew Daryl had wanted her to find things for her and Sophia, but she couldn't help herself from stuffing a few things for the brothers into the bags. She already owed them so much.

          "Y' gonna look through them things, or just sit there starin' off into nothin'?" Marty chuckled as she moved to grab a large plastic bin to fill with foodstuffs.

          Carol unlatched the first one and dug through it a little guiltily. It just didn't feel right rummaging through someone's belongings. It didn't matter if they were deceased or not in her opinion. But she quickly changed her mind when she found several pairs of boxers which looked as though they'd fit Daryl. By the time Marty was done filling the bin and had started on another – this one to be stocked with all manner of meat from a deep freezer shoved against another wall – Carol had found socks, underwear and even some toiletries for all of them. The two packs she had were well stuffed, and she mentally snubbed her nose at Ed just for good measure. He probably thought he'd left her with only the clothes on her back and hadn't counted on Daryl being able to provide for her. He was definitely in for a surprise.

          Carol grimaced as the woman locked the lid on the second bin. "We have no way of keeping that cold at our camp. You should keep –"

          Marty waved her off and lifted it in her arms to carry upstairs. "I'm sure your camp will be more than grateful t' have some bacon and eggs for breakfast in th' mornin'. When they get a whiff of salty cured meat they'll go all caveman on you, and y' can always trade for favors. Money ain't worth shit now, but food an’ favors … that'll getcha far." She paused a moment at the bottom of the stairs to level Carol with a look. "Look, honey … I owe them boys a debt I'll never be able t' repay. Just take care of 'em an’ we'll call it even, ok?"

          Carol stiffened her spine with determination, knowing well the feeling the woman carried for the Dixon brothers. "I will, Marty. Thank you."

 

*.*.*

 

          Merle watched silently as Sophia laid everything out on the counter. She meticulously folded her new clothes, opened up a box of granola bars and bound them together with a rubber band she'd found, gathered three bottles of water, and stuffed everything inside the canvas pack with room to spare. "What's 'at?"

          "Survival pack?" she ventured with a mischievous grin. She wasn't about to tell him what she'd found under the counter. She cared for him and didn't want him expiring on the spot. It was a surprise to be saved for later … much later if she had her way about it.

          The redneck gaped at her. "I was gonna do that for y’," he grumbled. Before she could zip it, he shoved a quiver filled to the brim with arrows inside.

          "I need to learn this stuff, though, for myself." She nodded sagely, the weight of the new world on her slim shoulders. "I'm not gonna let you down, Merle."

          "No, I don't guess y' are, Peach." He watched her skip off, the pack now securely fastened to her back. What the fuck was wrong with him, he wondered. He was Merle Fucking Dixon, bad ass. He'd been in and out of trouble since he’d come squalling from the womb, and had earned his reputation. He did  _not_  go all mushy over trusting little twelve-year-old girls. He didn't even like kids. He needed to kill something … or at least beat the crap out of someone.  _Gawd, this sucks!_

          He'd have to settle for taking the stuffing out of his brother. The boy was zipping the bag of guns, concentrated on his task – well, when he wasn't stealing surreptitious glances at Carol. Merle sauntered over to Daryl's side, a slow grin curling his mouth. His brother had it bad, and instead of taking what he wanted, Daryl was the type to suffer in silence.  _Pussy_ _!_ No reason he couldn't have a little fun.

          Merle let his fingers tap against the handgun laying on the counter, one of a matching set.  _Maybe he'll have them engraved. Better than wedding rings!_  They were sitting there next to a belt, a large hunting knife, and a leather jacket. "So," he said, drawing out the word. "Y' bidin' yer time before y' hit that, or are y' jus’ too much of a pansy t' handle a woman like her?"

          Daryl rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide the flush rising in his neck. "Piss off, Merle. It ain't like that – "

          "Yet! I see how y' watch 'er."

          He bit the inside of his cheek, refusing to egg his brother on. But damn, he wanted to haul off and sock him in the mouth. Why did he have to belittle everything nice he'd ever had? He wasn't going to let Merle ruin his friendship with Carol.

          "Fuck this," Daryl muttered under his breath. He opened the bag slung over his shoulder and stuffed the items on the counter inside. "We need to get the truck loaded and get back."

          "Aw," Merle snickered. "Not going t' give yer girl th' jacket, at least." He leaned closer to Daryl, his voice laden with filthy connotation. "I bet she loves it, brother. Bet she'll be all sweets an' cream fer y' between those shapely thighs o' hers."

          Rage hazed his vision red as Daryl grabbed two handfuls of his brother's vest and bent him back across the display case. "Don't y' fuckin' talk about her like that! Don't even fuckin' look at her! I swore I'd protect her, and I'm not gonna let my own brother disrespect her," he snarled.

          Merle smirked and held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "Well … this just gets better an' better," he couldn't resist getting in one last jab.

          "What's goin' on?" Sophia asked as she tugged on Daryl's arm. "Ain't the world messed up enough? You have to fight your own family?"

          Daryl looked down at the girl, releasing Merle so he could straighten his clothes. "This ain't really fightin', Soph."

          "Nah … jus' a bit of brotherly love."

          He cast one more scathing glance at Merle, picked up the jacket and stalked off to join Carol by the still boarded doors. He was going to make sure she had the protection of the thick leather covering her before he brought her back out there, be damned what Merle Dixon had to say.

 

*.*.*

 

          "Son of a bitch!"

          Daryl raced across the gravel parking lot, kicking up the tiny pebbles beneath his boots as he made for the open front door. The truck was loaded, even the empty gas cans filled and stowed in the bed. He should have known it had been too easy for something not to go wrong. They were Dixons, after all. Trouble followed them wherever they went. He'd pulled the driver's side door open with one hand, moving the crossbow into position with the other as they began to file out of the woods. Ambling along at their shuffling pace.

           He felt the adrenaline surge hot and fast through his veins. They hadn't seen him yet, but he knew they would. He stood frozen, fear a distinct twang at the very back of his tongue. Fear – not for himself – for Sophia, for Carol, and yes for Merle, his family. Fuck! He had to get them out. They were his responsibility, one he shouldered alone. If something happened to any of them … his fault. He should have insisted they leave sooner.  _Move, idiot! There's still time!_

So, he ran, fleet of foot across the gravel. He pounded up the short staircase and barreled into the store, his icy blue gaze frantically searching for her. Everything was loaded but the most important cargo. "Carol!"

          She hurried to his side, her entire body trembling as she noticed the urgency of his tone, but she didn't hesitate when he thrust his hunting knife into her shaking hands, his own wrapping around it to close her fingers upon the handle. "What's happening?"

          "Oh shit!" Marty hissed, pressing herself against the boarded windows. "Where th' hell did they come from?"

           Merle pulled a 9mm Beretta from the waistband of his jeans and hoisted Sophia onto his back. "Hang on, Peach; you're with me. Don't be scared."

Daryl snapped his fingers before Carol's wide eyes. "Hey, focus. Eye, temple, ear … if they get too close. Don't y' fuckin' die on me, woman. That's a surefire way t' piss me off."

          "C'mon, Marty, move it!" Merle yelled as he prepared to bolt out of the door. He gaped at her as she pulled back. "Did y' hear me, y' stupid girl?"

          "I can't … I can't leave my brothers. If they come back from their run an' I'm not here …"

          Daryl shot her a look of disgust. "For fuck's sake, man, c'mon! Drag her out if y' have to."

          "I'm sorry," she said, those moss green eyes filling with tears. With a mighty push – more than he'd thought her capable – she shoved him out the door and bolted it behind him. Her voice was muted, but he could make out her promise to cover them from the roof.

          Merle didn't waste time, pounding down the steps, Sophia clinging to his neck and practically choking off his air. He flew towards the bike, praying it would start. The dead were gaining ground, ten … fifteen … twenty … he was losing count. He raised his gun to fire. "Fuck it! Ain't got time for this bullshit!"

          Daryl dragged Carol across the parking lot. This was not the time for those damn shoes to trip her up, he thought randomly. Her hand was like ice within his own, her name cartwheeling through his mind with every forward step towards the truck. He literally tossed her across the seat, shoving his crossbow into her lap as he turned the key in the ignition. He looked up, relieved to see Merle already tearing out of the lot with Sophia on the bike, her arms wrapped around his waist and her face buried against his back. He didn't waste any time following.

          Daryl didn't let up off the gas, not even when he was sure they were clear. He chanced a glance at Carol, to see her clutching his crossbow to her chest, her eyes riveted to her daughter on the back of the bike ahead of them, tears streaming down her cheeks. He shook his head, his gut twisting as the rush of adrenaline began to wear off.

          "Are y’ ok? Why're y' cryin'?"

          She just sat there, frozen in fear. "Yeah," she murmured weakly. He was stunned, however, when she turned her watery blue eyes up to him. "I don't think I've ever been so scared."

          "First time with walkers? Never saw 'em up close?" he asked.

          "No … but next time I don't want to be afraid. I want you to teach me how to defend myself … to defend my daughter."

          His mouth quirked up at one corner, his chest swelling with pride that she was ready to step up and become the woman he knew she could be. The woman who lived beneath the broken shell just waiting to show the world who she really was. "Hell yeah!"

          Carol stared down at her hands, one clinging desperately to the knife he'd thrust at her, the other holding his treasured crossbow. "I know if anyone can, Daryl, it will be you."

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

          Daryl really had no reason to dislike Shane the way he did. The man just rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it was for the simple reason the man was a cop. He ignored the deputy's dictates to park at the entrance to their camp, going so far as to flip him off as the truck rumbled up the hill to park next to his tent. Why should he have to park so far away when the bed of the truck could be used for storage. It was safer for Carol and Sophia as well, but he wouldn't explain his motives to the man. He didn't owe him a damn thing.

          Carol tried to stifle the chuckle bubbling up in her throat, but he heard it. It lightened him somehow, and he couldn't help the way his lips quirked up slightly at the sound. "What?" he asked gruffly, keeping his eyes forward so he didn't accidentally run over anyone … like Ed. He'd run over that fucker and not feel bad about it at all.

          "You really don't like Shane, do you? Why is that?" she asked, genuinely curious.

          He looked away from her probing gaze, feeling as if he were somehow being violated. No one had ever had that effect on him before where he felt as if she could see directly into his soul. He cleared his throat and scowled out of the window at their camp, focusing on pulling the truck up next to Merle's bike. "Shane's an asshole," he said simply. "He's not the leader this group needs."

          "But at least he's trying."

          Daryl snorted. "Yeah, he's trying all right … trying t' get into Lori's pants."

          Carol was giggling as she handed him the crossbow and his knife, following him out of the truck. He stared at her, dumbstruck. In all the time he'd known her, he'd never heard such a carefree sound issue from her. His chest swelled a bit, prideful he'd been the one to make her feel comfortable enough to laugh like that.

          Sophia was just climbing off the back of the bike and Merle was kneeling down in front of her making sure she was ok. He didn't look happy at all. In fact, he looked afraid … no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Carol's laughter died away when he shot to his feet and stalked off towards the trees, his rifle slung over his shoulder.

          "Where's Merle going?" she asked as Daryl began unloading the truck. "Do you think he's alright?"

          "Merle's just being Merle. He probably needs time to cool off."

          "You think he's worried about Marty." It wasn't a question. "We shouldn't have left her there," Carol said, taking one of the plastic bins from him and carrying it towards the tent.

          Daryl followed her with another. "Cain't tell that girl nothin'. She's always been one t' do what she wanted, whether it was th' right thing or not. But she couldn't leave her brothers any more than I could leave mine. Marty's a survivor; she'll be ok." His gaze shifted away again as he prayed he was telling her the truth. It was insane to try to shield her from what was really happening out there, but he felt he needed to try for as long as he was able. Hadn't she been through enough? And that was probably nothing compared with what they'd go through in a not too distant future. "Don't worry about Merle. He'll be back when he's ready."

          Carol nodded and went back out to get their packs from the truck. Lori, Shane and Carl had come up the hill to make sure for themselves they had made it back ok. Sophia had the boy enraptured with her tale, of course, and Carl's face was lit up with awe.

          "… and then we had to make a break for it when the walkers came out of the woods, and Merle piggy-backed me all the way to the bike … it was amazing!"

          "I still can't believe he let you ride his bike," Carl whined, his bright blue gaze raking over the chopper. "And where did you get the bow?"

          "Merle got it for me." Sophia's eyes swung up to Lori's fluttering gaze. "Don't worry, Mrs. Grimes, mama told him it was ok. He's gonna teach me how to shoot it too. It's going to be epic if he can teach me to be as good as Daryl."

           Daryl took the packs Carol handed him, and carried them inside, his ears flushing brightly under Sophia's praise. When he came back out, they were all gathered around the small campfire chatting amiably. Was he supposed to sit there and play nice now? He grudgingly sat down on the log next to Carol, his eyes narrowing on the two across from them. He was glad Sophia was sitting with Carl a few feet away with her bow, both of them talking quietly about the recurve in her lap.

Then he realized what Lori was having kittens over because her quiet anger was now directed at him. "How could you even think of bringing them out there? Sophia's a child! They both could have been killed."

          "Lori –" Carol began in a placating tone.

          Daryl cut her off, his mouth twisting up in a sneer. "Last I checked, they were mine t' look after … not yours.  _And_  I don't have t' explain a damn thing t' you about  _anything_."

          Shane held out a hand, rising to his feet to try to keep peace between them. "Lori, they're back now, and they're fine. There's no need to get into this now."

          "What about next time, huh?" she spat back at him.

          "Then we'll go with him, and he'll keep us safe, just as he did this time," Carol said, lifting her chin stubbornly. "Lori, it was necessary for us to go. It's not like he could go on this run and leave us unprotected. Ed is surely just waiting for his moment to cause more trouble for us."

          Daryl clenched his teeth so hard, he was surprised they didn't grind down to powder. "Carol, y' ain't got t' explain a damn thing t' her. You don't owe 'er  _nothin'._ " He was damn near ready to kick Shane and his woman out of their camp … then he felt a small hand settle over his wrist, her thumb gently caressing the tracery of veins on the underside, and the world righted itself, centered around that one small touch.

          "Daryl, she was just worried about us," she said softly, her lips curving up at the corners. It wasn't often one of her smiles would match her eyes, but they were sparkling in the light of the fire and he could swear he felt himself drowning with no desire to be rescued.

          Lori gaped at them, her mouth hanging open. Shane rubbed the back of his neck and looked away from the clearly private moment they shared. When he noticed Lori's expression, he reached over and tilted her chin up to close her mouth. She shot him a quelling glance as she came back to her senses. "I really was worried, Carol. We all were."

          Daryl could practically feel Carol softening at his side. Of course, they were worried. Who did more for their camp than she did? They'd be a bunch of starving waifs running around in dirty clothes if not for her.

          Shane hauled Lori up off the log by a hand and glanced down at Carol with a smile. "Dale made a huge pot of beans seasoned with one of the squirrels Daryl brought in this morning. Glenn's raving about them. Why don't y'all come down and have dinner with us?"

          "They're that good, huh?" Carol asked, arching a dubious brow. Glenn would eat anything, she knew, but if Daryl were amenable, it would be one night she wouldn't have to cook. When Shane nodded, she swung her gaze over to her fierce protector. "Whatcha think?"

          Daryl shrugged. "If y' want to, I guess. We need to hurry, though," he said softly where only she could hear. "I want t' take you and Soph down t' th' lake so y'all can get a bath … and there's some things I picked up at Marty's I need t' show y’."

          Carol climbed to her feet, letting go of Daryl's arm finally. His scowl grew darker with the absence of her touch. He was really going to have to stop with that soon. She wasn't his like that, and the sooner he drilled that into his thick skull, the better.

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol hurriedly gathered her things together. Daryl and Sophia were already outside waiting for her to join them, so they could trek the short path to the lake. She scrunched up her nose as she tugged on the hem of her shirt. God, how lovely it would be to feel clean. Georgia summers had never been kind, and just because the world was in chaos didn't mean the weather was going to change. She actually blushed as she went through the handful of underwear she'd stuffed into her bag earlier. They were all high-end lacy underthings, and she had to wonder over the woman who'd left them behind in that suitcase. Apparently, she'd thought there was no reason not to be sexy just because the world was ending. Ed had never allowed her to have such fine undergarments, and secretly she was rather excited to have something so nice. She wrapped them in a towel, along with a pair of black leggings and a long moss green button up and went to join her family.

          Daryl didn't say a word, merely starting out of camp and leaving them to follow. She knew he was worried about his brother. Merle had been gone for over an hour and hadn't returned even for supper. She'd been able to feel Daryl's tension when they'd ventured down to the communal fire for the evening meal. It was either worse than usual, or she was getting better at reading his body language. He hadn't been open to conversation, grunting in response to questions directed at him. She was used to it by now, having spent so much time getting to know him in the past few weeks, but it made the rest of the group eye him with discomfit. He didn't make it easy on them to extend the hand of friendship as they did to her and Sophia.

          She'd had her own moments of unease as she sat next to Daryl at the fire with Ed glaring at the both of them the entire time. He'd finally ventured out of his tent, though he’d had to stand to partake of his meal, his wound too painful for him to sit for any length of time. Sophia had whispered to Daryl that she hoped Ed got an infection. Instead of scolding her for saying something about her parent, he'd offered her one of his rare smiles and a nod of approval.

          Carol had gasped when she'd gotten her first good look at his face, so swollen with purple and green bruises covering a good portion of it. His left eye was nearly closed and the white of the right was red and angry from burst capillaries. He was a mess, and she had no pity for him. She'd always been a forgive and forget kind of person, but there was no forgiveness in her heart for a monster like him. The pain and suffering he'd caused, the beatings she'd endured under his cruel hand, the fear both she and Sophia had lived with for so many years. No … he would never have her forgiveness.

          She had looked over at her daughter, sitting close on Daryl's other side, shocked at the blatant hatred she could see on the girl's face as she looked at her father. There was a new confidence – one which was pure Dixon, if she were to be honest – which radiated from her every pore as she stared Ed down. Finally, he'd given up trying to intimidate them and had slunk back to his tent. The influence of the brothers would only be a benefit to Sophia in this dangerous new world, and Carol was grateful for it.

          Carol was so lost in thought, she nearly face-planted as the mossy path gave way to the gravel which surrounded the lake. Her eyes scrunched tight as she waited for the impact and the pain which would surely follow. It was inevitable as she could feel herself falling with no way to prevent it. What was another bruise to her already marred features, she wondered. But it never happened. A strong arm went about her waist at the last moment, hauling her back upright to settle comfortably against Daryl's solid chest.

          "I can see now we're gonna have t' have a talk, woman," he growled as he set her back from him. She didn't miss the pink tinge to his cheeks in the growing darkness of twilight. "You gotta get that head o' yours outta th' clouds an' pay attention. Otherwise you're gonna get yourself killed."

          She nodded, finding it easy to get lost in the weight of that cobalt stare. "I'm sorry … I'll be more careful."

          They edged closer to the water, Daryl sticking close to her side now in case she stumbled, but then he led her off to the left towards another path. "Where are we going? I thought we were gonna take a bath," Sophia asked, sticking close to their heels with her own little bundle tucked beneath her arm.

          "Not here," he grumbled. He was still trying to get used to the girl questioning him. He wasn't used to  _anyone_ questioning him, but it didn't seem to bother him all that much when Carol did it. He'd grown used to the girl directing most of her chatter at his brother. Grudgingly, he answered her, trying to keep the impatience from his voice. "Just a bit further. There's a little pool where th' lake drains into a stream that runs down the mountain. It's more private than th' lake, and I can defend it better. Don't want no one sneakin' up on y' when you're naked, d’you?"

          Sophia giggled. "No."

          He felt the corner of his lips twitch, which surprised him. What the hell were these women doing to him? Daryl shook his head and led them off the path where a nice sized boulder lay next to a less worn path through some thin foliage. The little pool wasn't obvious to someone not looking for it, which was why it was the perfect spot for bathing. When the three of them stood next to the water, his eyes darted to Carol's clear blue gaze, seeking approval.

          "Well … whatcha think?" he asked, fiddling with the strap of his bow where it lay across his chest.

          Carol beamed at him as she dragged her gaze away from the sight. The pool was wide, but shallow with foliage on one side, a small waterfall on the other where it drained into the stream and a rock wall on two other sides to afford them all the privacy they wanted. "It's perfect," she breathed, more than ready to shuck her sweaty clothes and immerse herself in the cool water.

          "Alright," he murmured. "I'll be just up there so holler if y' need me." He pointed to the boulder they'd passed, and then he was gone, leaving them to their bath.

          Daryl climbed to the top of the perch provided by the boulder and drew in a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he settled the crossbow in the crook of his elbow. Cicadas and crickets sang in the night, invisible in the dense foliage which covered the mountain, and the full moon lent its wan beams of pale light to see by. It helped to soothe the beast which lived within him, much the way Carol did with her soft touch and gentle voice.

          The forest, nature in its purest form had always called to his soul. It provided peace, escape, but he couldn't understand why she was able to provide the same feelings, a balm to his shattered senses. He wondered briefly if it was because she was really the first friend he'd ever had. Merle was the only one he'd ever allowed this close to him before, but even he couldn't offer the same kind of gentle companionship she gave so freely.

          Merle was brash and loud. It was just how he was. But Carol … Carol was more, and the closer he got to her, the more of her he craved. His gut twisted with anxiety. What if he fucked up? He always did, without fail. Everyone he'd ever cared for eventually left. And now with such an uncertain future, he'd have to fight even harder to hold on to what he'd gained.

          "Penny for yer thoughts, brother," came a voice from the shadows. Daryl snapped out of his reverie and swung the bow in Merle's direction. Merle grinned cockily as he climbed the immense rock to sit down next to his brother. "Not like y' t' let anyone sneak up on y'."

          "Where y' been?" Daryl asked in a deceptively soft tone. He never knew when he'd utter a truly innocent remark and set his brother off. It was best to start out on his guard. It had gotten easier to talk to him since Sophia had begun spending time with him, however.

          Merle shook his head, scrubbing a hand over his clean face. He'd seen where Daryl had been heading with the girls and had decided to bathe at the lake before venturing over to meet them. "I needed some time t' think, I guess."

          "Y' worried about Marty?"

          "What?" Merle asked in surprise. "Hell no! That's about th' toughest little she-devil this side o' Macon. She'll outlive us all."

          "Then what –"

          "Sophia!" the elder Dixon hissed, not wanting to be overheard by the living or the dead. "Did y' see 'er when she got offa m' bike? She was _excited_ by what'd happened today!" His face took on a hard look. "What th' fuck're we doin', brother? This was  _not_  th’ plan."

          Daryl shook his head, remaining silent for a moment so he could listen out for Carol and Sophia. The distant sounds of splashing met his ears and he turned back to Merle. "Things change, Merle. I didn't expect to meet Carol when we came here, but I'm not sorry."

          Merle snorted. "This ain't th' time fer romance, Darylina. I'm thinkin' maybe it's time t' leave. We're no good fer 'em anyway. Just gonna end up getting' that little girl killed."

          The force of those words hit Daryl like a ton of bricks as realization dawned on him, leaving him gaping stupidly at his brother. Merle Dixon … badass, don't give a fuck about no one but himself Merle Dixon …  _cared_  about someone, and was terrified he wouldn't be able to protect her, was scared something was going to happen to her and didn't know how to deal with it. "Well, they won't have a chance in hell if we abandon them," he hissed, not giving his brother a chance to argue. "I swore we'd protect them, Merle, and I'm not gonna walk away. I can't do that t' her …  _them_. If y' leave, then that's on you."

          "You're gonna leave?"

          Merle cursed silently as he looked up into blue eyes so forlorn and filled with pain, his stomach clenched. "What? No, Peach … I wouldn't – "

          "Well that's what it sounded like to me," she accused, planting her hands on her hips as she recovered, her upset quickly morphing into anger, and narrowed her eyes. "Daryl said we're a family."

          "And, o' course, y' listen t' ever'thin' that shithead says as if it's fuckin' gospel." Merle shot his brother a look, begging for help. Daryl held up the hand not holding the crossbow as if to say, 'you're on your own, brother', and hopped off the boulder to go check on Carol. "Fuckin' traitor," he growled under his breath. He actually winced when Sophia climbed up to sit next to him, still looking as if she were about to breathe fire.

          "You can't leave, Merle. Please?" she pleaded. "Family is supposed to stick together, to be there for each other, and to help each other. Right? At least that's how I think it's supposed to be. My daddy never really was … but I don't have to worry about him no more. I have you and Daryl and mom and Carl." She sniffed back a wave of tears and bumped him with her shoulder, like she did quite often when they would talk about things. "Don't leave. We need you …  _I_  need you."

          Merle sighed, his chest tight as he looked down at her. He could see how much he meant to her all there in her clear blue gaze, and he damn near choked on the emotion clogging his throat. Even Daryl, as much as they cared for one another … he'd never seen his brother look at him like that. "I s'pose I'll have t' stay then," he grumbled. "Just ain't right skippin' out on family. Y' gonna have t' work hard, though, t' prove y' got what it takes t' be a Dixon."

          Sophia snorted. "I won't let you down, Merle. I promise."

 

*.*.*

 

          His steps faltered as he stepped out of the foliage concealing the little pool, his gaze darkening when it fell upon her slender form illuminated in the moonlight. Despite the mass of bruises scattered across her torso, she was still beyond lovely. The black yoga pants accentuated the gentle swell of her hips, but it was the fine lace outlining her breasts which gave him pause. A different ache began to hum beneath his skin, and his hands itched to touch her. He shook his head, dispelling the first stirrings of desire before he found himself with a problem he wouldn't be able to explain to her. Not now … Not ever if he had his way.

          Carol smiled sheepishly, drawing her lower lip between her teeth as she ducked her head and pulled the shirt clasped tightly in her hands up to cover her chest. "Daryl! You startled me."

          "Just me," he offered lamely with a shrug of his broad shoulders. He waved a hand at her, his brow scrunching. "How's th' ribs?"

          The slight smile she'd worn slipped from her face as she sighed. "Very tender," she admitted. She held true to her promise to be completely honest with him.

          He stepped closer, reaching into his pocket for the item he'd brought for her. He was encouraged when she didn't flinch or back away from him. It would still be a while, he knew, before she would be able to trust him, but they seemed to be off to a good start.

          Carol's eyes widened as she took in the item. "Wherever did you find that?" she asked, her azure gaze flitting between him and the rather large ace bandage in his hand.

          "Marty," he grunted, moving closer. "There's no end t' what she an' those brothers o' hers have scavenged. Even before th' world went t' shit. Want me to -"

          Her hand tightened reflexively on the shirt she held before her as she seemed to wage an inner battle within herself. Finally, she nodded and set the garment aside. He doubted there had ever been anyone to care for her after one of her many beatings at Ed's hands, and he had to fight his own battle with rage at the unfairness of it all.

          "I'll be gentle," he whispered gruffly.

          Carol let her hands drop to her sides. "I have no doubt of that, Daryl. You've been nothing but kind to me."

          He pressed the end of the bandage to her skin, his fingers brushing and sending a shiver along his spine. She  _needed_  kindness in her life after all she'd been through. He just prayed he wouldn't fail her. His guarded gaze flicked to hers as his arms went around her, the bandage unfurling along her ribs until he could make another circuit, binding her tightly. What would it be like if she allowed him to gather her in his arms, to hold her to his chest, to let him bury his face in the softness of her neck?

          Daryl secured the end of the bandage with the pins and let his hands settle at her waist. He raised his gaze to hers, searching deeply for whatever it was he felt to be reflected in her own eyes. He knew it was futile, and he cursed himself for allowing himself to hope. "How's that feel now?" he asked, his voice husky with emotion he wasn't allowed to feel. Merle would kick his ass if he could be privy to what was running rampant in his brother's head.

           Carol drew in a deep breath, and she smiled. Her hands rose to his biceps and gave a reassuring squeeze. "I can breathe better. Thank you, Daryl," she murmured, her smile radiant.

He dropped his hands quickly, realizing he had her in an embrace, a blush rising in his face. "Wasn't nothin'."

          But she didn't let go, her hand rising to cup his cheek, her thumb ghosting over the scruff of his chin. "Don't sell yourself short, Dixon. What you've done … what you're doing … it means everything to me." She held his gaze, her own having grown misty. "I haven't had many friends in my life, but I have to say you are by far the finest I've ever known."

          He let her go and reached for her shirt, holding it out to her. "Merle's … uhm … waiting on th' path with Soph. I won't be too long here," he told her, giving her his back. He didn't know how to respond to her heartfelt confession, so decided it best to keep his mouth shut. Less chance of baring his tortured soul to her and sending her running.

          The water had cooled even more now that it was full dark. Happily, he submerged himself despite the chills which immediately began in his body. He needed to cool off badly. He concentrated on scrubbing himself, banishing all thoughts of how he was ever going to sleep next to her. It was going to be a long night.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is full of triggers, so here's your warning. Carol shares a piece of her past with Daryl, and some of the things she's suffered at Ed's hands. Might want to skip this chapter (or at least the first part) if you're easily triggered. Thanks, as always, for reading! You guys rock!

 

 

          Carol held tightly to her little bundle of dirty clothes wrapped up in her towel as she followed Merle and Sophia up the path. Her eyes darted surreptitiously to her side where Daryl walked, sneaking glances every few steps. She'd somehow made him uncomfortable with her confession, and now she didn't know how to fix the tension which had risen between them.

          Merle glanced over his shoulder, a wicked grin curling his thin lips as he took in Daryl's posture and the stiff set of his shoulders. "C'mon, you two … this ain't no time fer a romantic moonlit stroll. Ain't no tellin' what's lurkin' in those woods."

          "Shut up, y' asshole," the younger Dixon growled, shooting his brother the finger. He felt his face heat, looking over at Carol as she laughed softly beside him. "He don't bother you with all his innuendos an' crap?"

          She gave him her full attention, the left side of her mouth still quirked up in a smile, happy to see his unease was fading. "Why should I? He was only teasing. Siblings do that, I'm told."

          His pace slowed even more, allowing Merle and Sophia to go on. She adjusted her own gait, remaining at his side. "You an only child? No brothers or sisters out there lookin' for y’?"

          Carol shook her head. "Nope. No one. Not even friends."

          Daryl stopped, taking her right hand in his left and pulling her into his side without a thought, only the need he felt to offer her comfort urging him on. "Surely y' have friends out there wonderin' where y' are."

          They were barely moving now, simply ambling along the path, focused on their conversation. It made her feel warm to be so close to him, and not just physically. She could feel him letting go, letting her in, drawing her closer and strengthening the bond of friendship which had formed between them. It gave her the courage to share herself – her true self – with him, instead of the woman Ed had made her into.

          "My parents … I was never really close to them. They had their own lives from the beginning. I was a mistake, one they never failed to harp on. They were happy when I met Ed, just as charmed by him as I was. I think they were just glad to be rid of me," she said in a dull tone, nothing like the soft voice she usually used when in his presence. "Sometimes I wonder if I married Ed because I was so unhappy at home. It wasn't bad at first, our marriage, not until after that first year, I guess."

          Daryl listened quietly, afraid if he said anything, she'd withdraw into herself again. He squeezed her hand to let her know he was listening, a gentle touch which betrayed none of the rage he felt tightening his chest.

          "He was laid off … the first time he hit me, that was his excuse. I thought it would be ok. It was a one-time thing. God, I was so stupid," she retorted with a bitter edge.

          "You're not stupid," he growled lowly. "You were afraid. Being scared don't mean you're stupid."

          She swiped angrily at her tears, keeping her gaze on the path so she wouldn't have to look at the accusation surely evident in his eyes.  _Why didn't you leave him? Why did you stay? You must've enjoyed being his whipping post!_  "Yes, Daryl, I was stupid … for staying. I just thought it would get better when we moved to Atlanta. He had a new job, better pay, a nice house …"

          "But?"

           Carol bit her lip, silence falling between them. She gripped his hand harder, refusing to let her fears overwhelm her. Ed couldn't touch her anymore, and it was all due to the man at her side. She knew he had his own emotional scars and how hard it must be to let her in. She had to show him how much she wanted to let him in as well. She wasn't going to hide from him.

"It just got worse," she continued. "He wouldn't let me work, kept me at home to take care of the house and to make sure I had dinner on the table when he came home. I wasn't allowed to have any money. He handled the shopping and the bills. He even started buying my clothes, where I had no choice but to submit or go naked. I was so alone in my misery; I didn't even realize I was pregnant with Sophia until my second trimester. When he found out, the beatings stopped … at least until we knew for sure I wasn't carrying the son he wanted."

          Daryl felt his face heat as rage rolled over the length of his spine. His hand tightened painfully on hers and she yelped. "I'm sorry," he apologized, lifting her hand in both of his as he stopped on the path, his thumbs gently smoothing over her mistreated digits. "You should've slit the bastard's throat in his sleep."

          "I thought about it. Believe me, I thought about it."

          "I can understand now why you wouldn't want to give Soph a brother or sister," he said, resuming their trek back to the tent.

          Carol sighed and shook her head, her eyes misty as she looked over at his strong profile. "It's not that I didn't want more children, but how could I bring another child into that mess? I was already terrified he'd one day turn his abuse on Sophia. Ed made sure I couldn't anyway."

          She nearly plowed into his back as he made his way around the truck and stepped under the tree where they'd pitched the tent. "What?! What d'you mean he made sure of it?!" he hissed, pressing into her personal space until his brow rested against hers.

          Carol gasped, her hands rising to his upper arms to brace herself for his anger. She knew he'd never hurt her, but his rage was something to behold, all quiet menace and deadly threat, and she couldn't help the little thrill of fear which shot through her. "Daryl …" she breathed, pressing closer to wrap her arms around his neck, her fingers kneading gently into the corded muscles along his nape. "Daryl, please," was all she could think to say.  _Please what? Please hold me? Kiss me? Don't go over and kill Ed with your bare hands even if he does deserve it?_ she thought frantically.

          Her heart thundered a pounding tempo against her ribs, but she didn't let go. "Tell. Me!" came his feral growl, his breath fanning hotly against her ear, his hands clenching into fists so tightly his knuckles cracked.

           The wind picked up, the rain which had been threatening all day nearly upon them. She shivered, whether from the dramatic drop in temperature or his close proximity, she didn't know. His hands came up to tentatively settle at her waist. That light touch was all she needed for the rest of the wall to come down. With a brush of his fingertips he was assuring her of his protection, his friendship, his loyalty to her, and she was able to let go of her pain and fight her way free of the fear which had been so much a part of her life for what seemed like an eternity.

 "Tell me," he coaxed, some of the heat leaving his voice as he felt her relax against him.

Carol burrowed into his chest, unable to meet his gaze, her arms slipping from his shoulders to wrap about his waist. "I was leaving him. I'd found where he'd hidden the bank statements. I took his debit card, had his pin, the keys to the car and a bag hidden under the stairs. Thought he was asleep … " She somehow found it easier to speak when she didn't have to look into his face and see the horror written there.

          "Fuckkkk," he cursed, pulling her closer, one hand coming up to cradle her head against his heart. He was already fucking everything up, just as he'd predicted. Instead of offering her the comfort she deserved, he was only adding to her pain.

          "I didn't know I was that close to the top of the stairs. He grabbed me. I don't even remember the slap … just falling. I never thought I would stop falling. God, it hurt so bad … so much blood. When I woke up in the hospital I thought I'd lost her. I'd been unconscious for three days. Somehow, she survived the fall, but … " Her voice was flat, emotionless, otherwise she would have broken down at the thought of losing her daughter and there would have been no way to stop the tears. "I can't have any more children, Daryl. It's just one more thing he's taken from me."

          "I'm sorry," he mumbled, his thumb stroking gently over the short hair at her nape. "I feel like an asshole for makin' you tell me all that."

          Carol snorted and pulled out of his arms. "And how else are we going to get to know each other better, huh?"

          He nodded, following her to the tent flap which Merle had left unzipped for them. "Wait here a sec," he said, slipping inside to grab his pack. She hadn't moved, trusting him to come back to her. He gestured for her to move over to his usual spot between the log and fire pit, quickly following her. "He's never goin' t' be able t' hurt y' again, Carol."

          She tilted her head to the side, so she could study him better in the dim glow of the fire. "I know that, Daryl. You and Merle are just itching for an excuse to kill him."

          Daryl snorted and poked at the muted embers, silently cursing the wind. She noticed he didn't deny her claim in the least. "I'm serious, woman … stop fuckin' laughin'." He reached into his pack and pulled out a box, sitting it on her lap. Her gaze shifted upwards, wariness making her squint at him. "G'on, open it."

          His expression reminded her of a kid on Christmas morning. She was sure then about the contents. It had to be a weapon … a weapon as a gift? But then that just went to prove to her the state of the world in case she'd forgotten. Slowly, she lifted the lid of the cedar box, her eyes widening as she took in the gleaming blade and polished ivory handle. The blade had to have been at least six inches.

          "Like it?" he asked uncertainly, glancing between her and the knife. "I'll sharpen it for y' tomorrow when I get back from hunting. Merle'll be with y' most of the morning."

          "I'm sure he's thrilled," she murmured dryly. The elder Dixon easily grew bored following her and Sophia about to ensure Ed didn't bother them. "I've got a ton of laundry to do."

          He frowned, a furrow appearing between his brows. "Not too much. You're still healin'. Day after, I'm takin' y' huntin' with me."

          "What? Daryl, I know nothing about hunting. I'm going to scare off all the game," she groaned. It was imperative to their survival what he provided for them. She didn't need to go tromping after him through the brush making enough noise to bring a herd of walkers after them.

          Daryl leaned back against the log behind him and rummaged once again through his pack, ignoring her protests. "No arguments. You go where I go. End of discussion."

          Carol opened her mouth to do just that, not appreciating his high-handedness one bit, only to have him shove a piece of semi-melted chocolate onto her tongue. "Oh. My. Gawd! Where'd you get chocolate?!"

          He smirked and held the rest of the candy bar out of her reach. "Marty keeps one in the register. She's got low blood sugar."

          "Shame on you," she chuckled, though not in the least bit serious. Not if she could enjoy something she never thought she'd taste again. Carol moaned as it melted on her tongue. "That's just soooo good."

          "Jesus! What's goin' on out here? I swear if y'all wake Peach and she starts natterin' away in my ear again, I'ma skin y' both!" Merle hissed as he stuck his head through the flap to tell them off.

          Daryl tossed a handful of Andes mints at his brother's head.

          A slow grin spread across Merle's face, his blue eyes twinkling. "What'd y' do t' mouse? She looks like she's about t' –"

           "Don't y’ say it, asshole!"

 Carol laughed at the both of them and then leaned over Daryl's lap to grab one of the chocolate mints he'd thrown at Merle. "G'nite, Merle."

He snatched up the remainder of the chocolates and ducked back inside with one more warning to keep it down. "Don't do nothin' I wouldn't."

          Daryl snorted and split the rest of the candy bar with her. "There ain't nothin' he wouldn't do. Sick fuck," he mumbled.

          "He's trying, Daryl. It seems he's mellowed since y'all have been here at the quarry," she contemplated aloud. "He wasn't very nice when you first got here."

          He nudged her shoulder with his own when she fell silent. "You're right. If he hadn't changed a bit, I never would've let Sophia get close t' him." The wind picked up again and Carol rose to her knees to get ready to go inside. "Wait. I have somethin' else for y’."

          She sat back down, steadily munching on her treat. "You're going to spoil me and then there'll be no living with me, Mr. Dixon," she teased, eagerly anticipating the next item he pulled out of that magic sack of his. Her hands trembled as she stared down at the handgun he laid upon her lap. "A gun?"

          "No," he hedged, taking out another and handing it to her. "Two guns. Y’ need your own weapons, Carol."

          "Couldn't I just use yours?"

          He clucked his tongue against the back of his teeth and shot her a look of disgust. "Woman, how are y' still alive?"

          "Because you're my friend and you look out for me," she shot back stubbornly. "Daryl, seriously, I hate guns."

          He was swiftly losing patience with her. "Carol … suck it up. This is th' kinda attitude that's gonna get y' killed. There's too many horrors in th' world now, real things for y' t' be scared of. Guns ain't one of 'em. Weapons are what's gonna keep y' alive … keep your girl alive. If you're not gonna do it for yourself, then y' damn sure better do it for her."

          Carol wrapped her hand around the grip on the butt of the .45 caliber pistol and brought it up for a closer look, the words 'chief’s special' emblazoned on the side. As much as she hated to admit it, the weapon felt  _right_  in her hand. "You'll teach me? I don't want to take any chances with Sophia's safety."

          "We'll start on our huntin' trip. By th' time we get back, y' should have a basic knowledge of how to shoot. Merle's gonna work with Sophia with her bow too." He brought out the last item he'd gotten for her, the thick leather belt he'd chosen to hold her weapons. He'd already attached a holster for each of her pistols, a pouch for extra ammo, and the sheath to store her knife. "I got her a knife too," he added in an aside. "Don't want her to get caught off guard. There will be times when she can't always use her bow, and I don't want her without a way to defend herself."

          Carol watched him stow her gear back in the pack and set it in her lap. It was now her responsibility, and she found herself excited he would be the one to train her. He'd already saved her in so many ways. Now he was going to make sure she and Sophia would survive.

          Daryl prodded the dying fire with a long stick, his gaze reflecting the tiny flame. "You should get some rest," he mumbled.

          "What about you?"

           "I'll take first watch. I don't trust those yahoos down there," he said, pointing to where Glenn sat atop the RV with Dale's rifle. "Merle will relieve me in a few hours."

Carol crawled to the tent flap, shivering over the nip in the air, unable to resist one last glance over her shoulder at her enigmatic friend. The world as she knew it was in chaos, yet she'd never felt more alive, or freer. And it was all due to one hot-headed redneck who cared more than he was willing or able to admit.

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl face-planted directly onto his pillow as he crawled into the tent. Merle had relieved him, finally, and all he could think of was climbing into his bedroll for some much-needed sleep. Not that he'd get it. Sleep had never been his friend. Letting himself find slumber was simply asking for the nightmares, the terrors of his mind finding their way into his consciousness. It was a part of him he wished he could banish, but it was like his daddy had always said …  _you can wish wit' one hand an' shit in th' other, boy._  He laid his crossbow down at his side between his bedroll and the tent flap, there near to hand should he need it.

          He was bone weary, the stress of his hunt that morning, followed by the run they'd made to Marty's, weighing heavily upon him. He rotated his neck as he laid on his back, the bones popping loudly. He was getting too old for this crap, he thought miserably. Closing his eyes, he focused his senses, his ears prickling as he listened to Sophia's soft snores and Merle's muted curses where he sat outside under the awning at the front of the tent. Merle hated the rain for the simple fact it dulled the senses and obscured hidden dangers. It left him nervous, and Merle Dixon did  _not_  like to be nervous. Especially when he was responsible for others. It was doubly hard when those  _others_ happened to be his family.

          Family … the word skated around the outer rim of his mind, his eyes opening to land on Carol where she slept at his side. He raked a hand over his face, an ache in his chest as he remembered her story from earlier. What the hell was he going to do about her? All his life, he'd built up walls to keep people out, only allowing Merle to get close. What was it about this woman which left him feeling so vulnerable? It  _mattered_  to him now what happened to her, to her daughter.  _Carol_  mattered. It wasn't just a physical attraction – and he wasn't about to lie to himself and say it wasn't there – but something about her which burrowed deep into his battered soul and begged for him …  _all_  of him.

          Daryl groaned softly and slammed his head back onto the pillow, wincing when he felt the ground beneath the canvas flooring. He couldn't allow himself to let her in, couldn't form a more intimate attachment than he already had. It would hurt too much if he failed her. He would keep his distance and protect her as best he could, teach her and hope she was able to learn to survive. She didn't need to be burdened with his past when she had so much trauma in her own, and he just didn't think he'd ever have the courage to bare himself before her. He didn't know if he could stand the pity in her eyes, not from her.

          Yanking himself back from the dark place in his head, he rolled onto his left side and closed his eyes, concentrating on the sound of the rain against the tent, hoping it would lull him to sleep. It very nearly worked, too, but then he heard Carol shift under the sleeping bag she shared with Sophia, the nylon making a soft susurrus of sound. She was restless, making him want to reach out to put a calming hand over hers, to squeeze her fingers and assure her she was safe, to stave off the nightmares causing her distress. Unconsciously, he scooted back, his bedroll moving with him, closing the distance which separated them. He didn't touch her, but surely his presence would soothe her, wouldn't it?

          A tiny whimper rose to meet his ears, and he squeezed his eyes shut, turmoil rife within him as he tried to think of something to do to ease her back into a deeper sleep. Damnit, he wasn't equipped to handle this, and asking Merle was just out of the fucking question! He listened to her shifting for a moment more before a startling wave of gooseflesh erupted on his skin brought on by her warm breath at the back of his neck. He fought off the images assaulting his mind and the panic rising in his chest, his hands clenching into fists where they were clasped tightly over his chest. It wasn't time to think of his own tortured past and his father's cruel hands. This was Carol. That thought kept him still, letting her find her spot in his back and the comfort she sought.

          Her sweet sigh was music to his ears as she pressed her brow to his nape, her body curving into his. He took a deep breath, the tightness in his chest easing. Again, he wondered, why she and she alone had the ability to bring him such peace with the simplest of touches. It didn't matter, though. He would eventually figure it out … sooner or later. But for now, he was able to slip into sleep for the first time in years without the terror of his nightmares revisiting.

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

          Merle Dixon hated being on watch with a burning passion. It was boring as fuck sitting there on his ass watching the sleepy quarry camp. He was doing it to keep an eye out for Ed mostly. He didn't trust the bastard not to try to slip in and slit Mouse's throat while she slept. He had a feeling his brother wouldn't take it well should anything happen to the woman. Merle shook his head. The boy was more attached to her than he was willing to admit.  _Bout time baby brother sat up an' took note of th' fairer sex._

          As long as she didn't think he'd allow her to play games with Daryl. That was one thing he wasn't going to stand for. The boy had been through too much in his life - some of which had been Merle's own fault - and he felt he needed to protect him now more than ever. He hadn't always been the best brother or friend, or even a decent role model … Hell, he was a fuck up. He admitted it freely … at least to himself. It didn't mean it was too late for him to be better. He had to be better now … not only for Daryl, but for Sophia and Carol too.

          He didn't understand how Daryl could have formed such a  _friendship_ with the woman. Women were good for sex … not conversation, or so he'd thought before meeting the Peletier women. He found he could talk to Peach for hours without ever growing bored or frustrated. She had such a keen curiosity about her and the continuous questions she asked definitely kept him on his toes.

          But baby brother had him stumped. Daryl wasn't a talker … he was a doer. Always had been. He kept his mouth shut and did what needed to be done. He didn't sit around having deep conversations like some pansy. He could understand the change if he was trying to get into her pants, but the boy still flinched away at the slightest touch, so he knew that wasn't the case. Even if he did want Mouse in that way, Daryl wouldn't act upon it. If he could get over the scars of his past, his honor would keep him away. He'd no doubt feel he was taking advantage of her. How could two brothers, who spent so much time together, be so different?

          Merle shook his head to clear it and yawned, ready for his shift to be over. Dawn was just beginning to tint the sky with pink and lilac, and he couldn't help but smile. He turned towards the open tent flap. Daryl was going to want to get up and go check his snares before breakfast. His stomach was already rumbling noisily at the thought of having a decent breakfast of bacon and eggs. Thank fuck for Marty, he chuckled quietly to himself.

          What he found in the tent had all thought of hunger fleeing and a whole new slew of questions somersaulting through his mind. Carol was wrapped around his brother's back like he was her own personal teddy bear. His head rested on her outstretched arm, her other hand tucked up under his arm to rest over his heart, and her leg was curled around his. Yet the thing which shocked him the most was the fact that Daryl was snoring softly. His baby brother did  _not_  snore. He usually slept so lightly a bug could fart and he'd jerk awake.

 _Yup … Definitely more than what Daryl's claimin'._ Merle grinned in anticipation. The fallout of his brother's temper would be a sight to behold. He couldn't wait. All those conflicting emotions Daryl struggled with, his irrational temper …

          Merle crouched down at their feet, raising a finger to his lips as Sophia sat up on Carol's other side and rubbed sleepily at her eyes. Those same crystal blue eyes widened when she noticed her mother snuggled up to Daryl. She held her silence as Merle reached out to tap his brother's bare foot, wanting to see what would happen when the archer woke.

          "Time fer y' to get yer lazy ass outta bed there, sunshine," he said in a mock whisper which had Sophia giggling.

          Daryl's smoky blue eyes shot open, but he remained absolutely still as he tried to catch his bearings. Merle grinning like a loon first thing in the morning never boded well, and he had a feeling he was in for it. "What?" he whispered, mindful of Carol sleeping at his back.  _Carol. Oh hellfire an' damnnation!_

          It was then his body came to life with awareness and burned at the touch. His nerve endings crackled with nervous energy and panic rose in his chest. The comfort he'd taken in her embrace mere hours before vanished in the wake of his brother's amusement. He rolled to his left and grabbed up his boots and bow without a word, taking off like a shot for the woods before Merle could question him, his face three shades of crimson. He knew it was wrong to leave Carol there to face Merle all alone with what would surely be some embarrassing innuendo, but he didn't know how to deal with it now … If ever.

          Carol sat up with a gasp at his abrupt departure, a blush rising to her own cheeks when the realization of their compromising position struck her full force. She'd thought it all a lovely dream until she'd heard her daughter's lyrical giggle. She should have known something which felt so good as being snuggled up against her friend's delightfully warm back was too good to be a dream. Her heart sank, knowing she'd crossed a line. Now he'd run out, uncomfortable because she'd gotten all clingy in her sleep. She groaned and dropped back onto her pillow.  _Way to go, Carol._

“Mom … Uh, what's with -"

          Merle was quick to divert her attention. "Peach, I'm starvin'; how ‘bout you?"

          "Not really. I'm much more interested in why Mom - "

"I'm sure ya are, but right now we need t' worry about breakfast. Y' can talk t' yer mama later," he interrupted again with a stern look. "G'on an' see about setting things out so Carol can get started after she an' I have a lil' chat."

          Sophia huffed out a frustrated breath. "But -"

          "Sophia, listen to Merle. He's right, and the longer we delay, the longer it'll be before he begins teaching you how to use your new bow," Carol said, doing her best to distract her child from needless questions … especially ones she didn't know how to answer.

          "You never tell me anything," the girl pouted. She pulled on her sneakers and crawled to the tent flap to go outside and rummage in the bed of the truck for the cooking paraphernalia they'd need, all the while grumbling at the unfairness of grownups.

          Carol eyed Merle cautiously from beneath her long lashes, her gaze guarded. As much as she was coming to know Daryl, his brother was still a stranger to her. She wriggled uncomfortably under his scrutiny, wishing he'd just get to the point. By all rights she should be having this conversation with Daryl.

          Merle settled himself cross-legged at the foot of her bedroll and watched her fidget for a full two minutes. "Alright, Mouse … Fess up. What's up with y' an' m' brother? An' don't lie t' me an' tell me it's nothin'!"

          "Merle, really … We're just friends," she tried to assure him. "Daryl just wanted to help me out of a bad situation. I didn't want to drag him into it, but he persisted until I was left with no choice. Ed probably would've killed me if it hadn't been for Daryl's help."

          He waved a hand about, gesturing wildly between Carol and his brother's empty bedroll. "And yer so grateful y' repayin' him with sex? Didn't think y' had it in y' there, Mouse."

          "What?! No!" she choked in outrage. "Merle, not everything is about sex!"

           He liked the way her cheeks flooded with color and made the freckles on the bridge of her nose stand out in stark relief. "Why not?"

          "Merle!"

He shook his head. "Look, all I'm sayin's Daryl has helped people out before, an' he ain't never felt th' need t' make 'em part of th' family. There's gotta be more t' it."

          "Well there's not," she said indignantly. "And Daryl doesn't seem the type to help someone because of what might be in it for him, Merle Dixon. He's better than that."

          The elder Dixon raised up on his knees and pointed one long finger at her. "Y' better not be playin' games with m'brother, woman. I ain't gonna stand for it. He's been through too much in 'is life, an' he don't need any more shit … 'specially from someone he cares about."

          Carol rose up on her knees to face off with him. She wouldn't allow another man to make her cower in fear of his temper. "I'm the last person in this god forsaken hell who would  _ever_  try to hurt him. I don't know what he feels for me  _or_  what you  _think_ he feels, but I would never take advantage of his kindness nor his friendship. He means too much to me, Merle." She kept her voice strong and unwavering despite the small bit of fear she held for him. "Maybe you should stop worrying about him being hurt by someone else and start looking at how you yourself treat him."

          "The fuck's goin' on in here!?"

          Merle whipped his head around to scowl at his brother as he came back into the tent. Blood was splattered on his pants, so he must've had something to retrieve from the snares set up along the edge of camp. "Not a thing, baby brother," he drawled, forcing himself to relax. "Just havin' a lil' chat with m' new sister, s'all." If nothing else, he'd found a new respect for her. She wasn't as timid as he'd been led to believe. Either that or she'd found her backbone when she'd been liberated from her bastard husband.

          "It's fine, Daryl. Merle was just going to step out, so I could dress. Then, of course I'll get started on breakfast."

          Merle gaped at her. He'd expected her to tattle on him and start with the waterworks to make his brother come to her defense. It's what most women of his acquaintance would have done. Maybe he was hanging out with the wrong sort, he mused.

           Daryl glared at his brother speculatively. "Ain't what it sounded like from outside."

Merle backed off and looked over longingly at his bedroll before edging his way towards the tent flap. "Well maybe y' don't hear so good."

          The youngest Dixon watched his brother disappear through the flap and then dropped his gaze to the floor, unable to make himself meet her gaze. "That really what happened? He wasn't tryin' to bully you?"

          Carol sighed, her heart heavy to see he was withdrawing from her over a little innocent cuddling. She'd just have to work harder to get them back to where they'd been … If that were even possible. "Yes, Merle and I just needed to come to an understanding."

           "He didn't … Did he say anything about … "

From the scarlet hue of his ears, she couldn't mistake his meaning.  "He did, but I explained it was perfectly innocent. It's been a long time since I've felt safe enough to let myself sleep so deeply."

          He chanced a glance in her direction, a faint smile toying at the corner of his mouth before he forced it away. "I don't think I've  _ever_  slept that deeply," he admitted so softly she almost didn't catch it. Even when it was just him and Merle, he hadn't been able to sleep, always fighting off the recurring nightmares which haunted his mind. Not until her …

          "I'm fuckin' starvin'!" Merle yelled from outside. "What th' hell y'all doin' in there? Or do I get t' guess?"

          Daryl rolled his eyes. "Shut up, damnit! You'll get fed, for fuck's sake." He nodded to Carol without looking up at her and left her alone to get dressed.

 

*.*.*

 

          "Ahh … Sumbitch!" Daryl cursed as the blade of his buck knife sliced his palm. It was his own fault for letting himself be distracted by Carol's slender form backing out of the tent. He hadn't realized just how perfectly she was curved in all the right places until now.

          Her new clothes enhanced rather than hid her body, and he gave a silent  _thank you_  to her vindictive husband for shredding her entire wardrobe. His cobalt gaze caressed her from top to toe, taking her in with appreciation. The double-layered tank tops she wore - one black; the other an olive green - molded to her, and he had to wonder what she had on underneath to push her breasts up so high and proud. He swallowed thickly, forgetting for a moment about the pain in his hand.

          He gnawed at the inside of his bottom lip as his gaze ventured lower over her trim waist to the smooth curve of her hips, his hand gripping his knife more firmly as his body reacted. It grew steadily worse, and he had to bite back a moan as he eyed her perfect ass. Those jeans should be considered illegal, he thought as sweat pooled between his shoulder blades and began a trek to the small of his back. Even the black half boots she wore with their little silver buckles were turning him on.

          Merle whistled lowly as she handed off a flat of eggs to Sophia, but for once, he held his tongue. He couldn't help ribbing his brother, however, when he noticed the glazed expression in Daryl's eyes. "Y' gonna bleed all over that meat, or y' jus' stare at yer woman all day? What's th' plan, brother?"

          "Fuck!"

          "Yeah, I s'pose that's one o' th' options," he chortled.

          Carol's azure gaze shot a look of concern at him, and she hurried over to the game table to see how badly he'd injured himself. "What happened?" she tsked, frowning at the thin shallow cut on his palm. "Merle can you fetch me some water, please? I need to clean this."

          Daryl flushed, and inched closer to the table to avoid any further embarrassment. "It's nothin' … knife slipped, s'all."

          Merle brought over the jug of water they used for cooking and set it on the table, along with a clean rag. He chuckled. "Well, if'n y' hadn't been oglin' -"

          "Merle!" Daryl barked, cutting him off.

          "Sophia, why don't you run down to invite Lori and Carl to breakfast? Tell her I'll be happy to trade some bacon and eggs for a few loaves of fresh baked bread," Carol said, trying to prevent a fight between the brothers.

          "Sure, Mom. C'mon, Merle," she said, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. "Race ya."

          Merle snorted. "I ain't runnin' through camp like a fuckin' idiot," he scoffed, idling slowly past her. Just as he took a step in front of her, he broke into a run. "Ha!"

          Sophia gaped at him before she hightailed it after him, yelling, "No fair; you cheated!"

          "Gawd!" Daryl shook his head. "He's such a kid."

          Carol poked at his wound, which was now clean, earning a whistling hiss from between his teeth. "I think that's the nicest thing I've ever heard you say about your brother." She looked down at the brace of rabbits on the table which still needed to be skinned. "I'll just bind that for you, so you won't get anything in it while you work. Thankfully, it’s not deep enough to require stitches."

          Daryl watched her disappear into the tent to fetch the first aid kit, cursing himself for not paying attention and letting his knife slip. At least his body had cooled. He didn't want her to catch on to his obvious attraction to her. It would do nothing but complicate matters and there was enough of that already.

          He was still lost in thought when she returned, and he flinched reflexively at her touch. "I'm sorry, Daryl," she apologized softly.

          "Nothin' t' be sorry about."

          Carol applied some antibiotic ointment and then folded a gauze pad in half and had him hold it in place as she wound more around his hand. "You don't like to be touched," she murmured. It wasn't a question.

          His jaw clenched. "No … Not really."

          "May I ask why?"

          Daryl stared down at her upturned face, at the myriad questions forming behind her crystalline eyes, and forced himself to remain rooted next to her. He wanted so badly to run. All he could manage was a whispered, "No."

          She watched his eyes search out the bruised finger marks Ed had left on her right bicep, and the yellow and green discoloration on her cheekbone. She understood better than anyone the scars abuse could carve deeper than flesh. She secured the bandage and then took a step back, allowing him his space. "So … How do you like your eggs?"

          He squinted at her, dumbfounded. Had she just let the matter drop? What woman of his acquaintance would have just let it go like that? She had to be burning with curiosity … Or did it just not matter to her? Now he had questions of his own. Damn! What had she just asked him? "Uhm … scrambled, I guess." He was so confused. Thank god Merle was off with Sophia, at the moment, and didn't have to witness it. He'd be laughing his fool head off.

          Carol set to work frying the three pounds of bacon and scrambling the entire flat of eggs as if nothing was wrong and he still hadn't finished with the rabbits. It didn't help when Merle returned with Sophia and their guests and he was treated to that look his brother was fond of giving him meant to question his mental clarity.

          Daryl sent a scowl Shane's way when the former lawman settled himself next to the fire. He didn't remember Carol sending the man an invite. "Surprised y' didn't ask the entire camp on up here," he growled.

          Merle shrugged from where he stood at the table spooning tomato relish all over his toast. "He was at Lori's when we got down there. What can I say … Peach's got fancy manners."

          "Good, maybe your dumbass'll learn somethin'."

          "Oh, Carol, this is so good," Lori mumbled around a mouthful of crispy bacon. "Where did you find bacon? Not that I'm complaining. I could die happy right now."

          Carol laughed as she swiped some relish from Merle's coveted jar and slathered some on a slice of toast. She added bacon and made a sandwich. Almost as good as a BLT. She winked at him as he grumbled about sharing. "A friend of Merle's has a shop with a bunker underneath stocked full of clothes and foodstuffs. She was kind enough to share a bit with us."

          Shane glanced over at the brothers as he rubbed his full stomach. "She a survivalist or somethin'? If she's alone, maybe she would want to join our group."

          "Naw," Merle shot him a narrow-eyed look. "She's got two brothers who'll look after 'er." Marty would eat the deputy alive and then pick her teeth with his bones.

          Carol spooned more eggs onto Daryl's tin plate, making sure he had enough to eat. Sophia and Carl sat with their heads together where they lounged in the grass beside the tent. "I'm just glad she was able to help me find some clothes and things since mine were destroyed."

          Lori cast a quelling glance in the direction of Ed's tent across the path. "We still need to decide what to do about that man."

          Daryl pushed his empty plate aside. "There ain't nothin' t' be done about him right now. I made it clear th' other night … He comes near Carol or Sophia an' I'll kill 'im. Simple as that."

          Lori shivered at the menace in his tone and - not for the first time -worried about her friend.

          "You can't just go around killin' people, Dixon. It ain't how shit's done," Shane protested. "Just because the world has gone to hell, don't mean we have to be uncivilized."

          Merle smirked. "Maybe not … But it's how it's gonna be t' protect our own." He snorted when the two looked at each other worriedly. He whistled for Sophia. "C'mon, Peach, let's go test out that bow."

          "Whoo-hoo! Ms Lori, can Carl come too?" The girl asked, her friend hovering at her side with a pleading look.

          "I don't know …" Lori hedged. She had her doubts about letting her son run off with the likes of Merle Dixon. Yet Carol didn't have a problem with entrusting her daughter's safety to the man. And hadn't she just scolded Shane for making presumptions about members of their group without all the facts? She sighed. "I suppose … As long as you don't leave camp."

          Merle slung his rifle over his shoulder. "Just gonna take 'em down by th' lake. They'll be safe enough. Promise not t' kill 'em this time."

          Sophia giggled and set off up the path with Carl while Lori nearly swallowed her tongue. It would take her a good long while before she'd ever get used to that man's morbid sense of humor.

          Daryl finished up the rabbits and wrapped them for later. "Soon as y'all get cleaned up, Carol, we'll go join them. See if we can break in your new .45."

          "You got her a gun?!" Shane squeaked, that funny little sound he made when he was surprised or upset.

          "How else is she gonna learn t' protect herself?"

          Carol stored the leftovers in a large tupperware container and handed it to the deputy. "Shane, would you please bring this down? I'm sure the rest of the group would like to have something to eat this morning," she said. It was a ploy to keep him from setting off Daryl's temper. One she was happy to see worked.

          Lori kept her voice lowered as she began to help Carol do the dishes. "Honey, are you sure about this? We're survivors … Not some cowboys shooting it out at the OK Corral!"

          Carol shrugged. "Maybe not, but how long do you really think we'll survive if we can't take care of ourselves? You want to hide behind the men? Because I don't. I'm tired of hiding."

 


	12. Chapter 12

 

          "What's that?" the redneck questioned, eyeing the basket perched on her hip. It wasn't what he'd been expecting when he'd sent her into the tent to fetch her things.

          "Laundry," she replied, arching a brow at the obvious.

          His lip curled in disgust as he shifted restlessly on the balls of his feet. He stepped closer and jabbed a finger into a pair of filthy jeans with oil stains on one knee. "That ain't what I sent y' in there for." Not to mention he was impatient from having to wait while she gathered their things. "Where's your belt, woman …" He glanced down meaningfully at her waist. "… 'cause y' ain't wearing it, I see."

          Carol dug through the basket one-handed and set the small arsenal on top. She pursed her lips and peered up at him from beneath her lashes.

          "Lemme guess … It don't fit?" he drawled facetiously.

          "It fits."

          "Then why ain'tcha wearin' it?"

          Carol winced, hating how he was becoming so exasperated with her. "What if it goes off?" she mumbled, frowning down at one of the pistols in a holster on the fine leather belt. "Someone could get hurt."

          "First off … they ain't loaded," he admitted, fidgeting with the strap of his crossbow where it lay upon his chest. He reached for the basket and set it at her feet before snatching up the belt. "Secondly … all the weapons in th' world ain't gonna do y' a damn bit o' good if y' don't keep 'em within reach. S'why I got y' th' belt."

          She gasped as he wrapped his arms around her to bring the ends of the belt together just below her navel to fasten it securely. Apparently, he had no problems with touch as long as he was the one doing the touching. She decided to file that thought away for later before she missed a pertinent piece of his instruction. "You must think my fear of guns is foolish."

          Daryl stepped back to admire his handiwork and smirked. "Fear is a good thing. It'll keep y' motivated. Y' jus' cain't let it control y'." He picked up her basket and motioned for her to follow. "And don't worry about them goin' off unexpectedly even when they  _are_  loaded. That's what th' safety's for."

          Carol wrinkled her nose as she squinted at him against the harsh sunlight. "It's heavy," she said, her fingers brushing over the handle of her knife and the butt of the .45 on her hip. The other was at the small of her back, the unfamiliar weight a bit unsettling.

          "Stop worryin'. You'll get used t' it soon enough." He chanced a glance at her from the corner of his eye. "I suppose you're gonna wanna do laundry before I get to show y' anythin' good, huh?"

          "Why, Daryl Dixon, are you pouting?" she teased.

          "No! Jus' don't wanna be out here all day s'all." He wasn't looking forward to having to stand about in the hot sun while the women washed clothes and gossiped like a bunch of hens.

          "I promise I'll hurry," she vowed. "It would go faster if I had some lines out here by the tree line instead of having to carry the wet wash all the way back to camp to hang."

          When they entered the clearing next to the lake, he surveyed their surroundings and found himself agreeing with her logic. She'd be able to hang the clothes and have the rest of the afternoon to spend on weapons training. They could then retrieve the wash when it was dry before returning to camp.

          Andrea, Lori, Amy, and a rather disgruntled Glenn were already scrubbing away at the water's edge. Carol waved, her brows shooting up in surprise when she saw the boy.

          "I'ma go see if I have some twine in th' truck … Maybe string it up over there," he pointed to where the trees were thin and in direct sunlight. "You'll be ok here with your friends for a bit, and Merle's just over there with Soph."

          She shielded her eyes, so she could see where the elder Dixon was instructing her daughter in the proper use of her bow. "I'll be fine," she beamed at him.

          He was still reluctant to leave her as she took the basket from him and quickly found a spot between Lori and Andrea. There hadn't been any sign of Ed yet that day, but that didn't mean he might not show up to cause problems. Daryl set off up the path at a brisk walk. He needed to hurry, his skin humming with anxiety the further he got from Carol.

 

*.*.*

 

          "How'd you get roped into laundry duty, Glenn?" Carol asked, pressing her lips together to hide her smile.

          The young Korean hung his head as he plied a brush to a particularly dirty pair of khakis. Amy snickered beside him. "Dale, T-Dog and Glenn made the mistake of playing poker with Andrea last night. First one to lose all their chips had to do laundry for the other three. It was all her idea."

          Carol shot a puzzled frown towards the blonde in question. "Then why are you out here, Andrea?"

           "Yeah," she snorted, "like I'm going to let him paw through my unmentionables."

Everyone but Glenn joined in the laughter. Carol watched him speak quietly with Amy, causing the girl to blush, and she had to wonder if the boy hadn't lost on purpose, so he would have an excuse to spend time with the girl.

          Carol had barely made a dent in the stains on Merle's jeans when Jacqui leaned forward around Lori to nudge her. "Carol, honey, you lookin' good today. Seems those Dixon's are agreein' with you. And little Sophia is flittin' around here like a butterfly who's just got its wings."

          She grinned as a rosy blush crept up her neck. "She's happy," Carol said simply. "I'd never realized how much stress she was under before."

          "Merle and Daryl aren't the friendliest people, but I dunno," Glenn said. "Are they treating you good, Carol?"

          She nodded. "They've gone out of their way to help us … even to the point of bringing us to replace what Ed destroyed. They might be rough around the edges, but they have something you don't see much of nowadays … honor."

          Andrea dropped the bra she was washing and stared at her incredulously. "Even Merle? I find that hard to believe. You can't mean to tell me that man hasn't tried to make a pass at you yet."

          Carol thought back to the words which had passed between them that morning. If nothing else, he was mostly worried about her playing his brother false. "Honestly, no, Andrea, he hasn't."

          Lori's mouth turned up into a calculating smile. "Maybe he's just like that with you, Andrea, because he likes you."

          Jacqui waggled her eyebrows and used one hand to fan herself. "Go for it, honey. You could do worse than Merle Dixon."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl felt better once he'd returned to the lake and had Carol under his watchful eye once more. However, it was getting harder to convince himself he wasn't a stalker. He shook his head at the ridiculousness of the situation. He was  _not_ a fuckin' stalker. He had no desire to do anything but protect her … and he  _would_ , he vowed. T-Dog nearly yanked the twine from Daryl's hands because the hunter hadn’t been paying attention.

          "Hey, man, you alright?" he asked, eyeing Daryl with concern.

          "Yeah," he grunted, tying off the last of the lines. "Thanks." He knew Merle didn't care for the man, but Daryl didn't think he was so bad. He was a decent guy. Ed had proven looks could be deceiving. It was a lesson he hoped his brother would learn eventually.

          "That was a real good thing you did for Carol. She's a nice lady and sure didn't deserve to be stuck with Ed's stupid ass," T-Dog said as they moved out of the trees.

          "She'll be ok. Carol's stronger than she looks."

          T laughed. "Specially now she's packin' heat. Next time you make a run, lemme know. Be glad to get your back."

          Daryl watched the man head back to the camp with another basket for the sisters as he made his way to Carol to grab hers. He wondered how much longer it would be before the safety of their camp would be compromised. He wasn't delusional enough to think they'd be safe for long. Eventually the dead would wander from the city once their food source ran dry.

          "You almost done?" he asked brusquely, feeling the eyes of the other women on him.

          Carol wrung out the last of her new shirts and nodded. "All done. Just need to hang them."

          "Bout time," he grumbled. "G'on … check on Soph while I hang these."

          Carol nearly tripped over her feet. "You don't have to do that, Daryl. It'll only take me a minute."

          "I know I don't," he replied, feeling his face heat. "But I'm sure she's dying t' tell 'er mama all about her lessons with Merle."

          "You're sure?" she asked, still surprised over his kind offer. Ed would never have volunteered to do what he deemed  _woman's_ work.

          Daryl just pointed, refusing to answer as he grabbed the first garment from the basket and slung it over the line. Carol flashed him a radiant smile and headed into the trees, following the happy sounds of her daughter's laughter.

          She stopped a good distance from them, far enough not to interfere, but close enough to hear Merle speaking to Sophia in a calm tone.

          "Straighten yer stance, Peach … that's it. Nock th' arrow." He circled around behind her, his hands hovering, ready to assist. "Lil' lower. Level out."

          Carol stood as still as a statue, amazed at the hardened man's patience with her daughter, his gentle instruction to a girl who seemed to be blossoming before her very eyes.

          "Good girl … Now breathe in and -"

 _Twang!_ Sophia released the arrow on the exhale and then smiled broadly as it struck the target. Merle had drawn a walker's head on the thick paper tacked to the tree and the arrow was firmly embedded in its nose. It wasn't the eye she'd been aiming for, but it was still a good shot.

          She squealed in delight and rushed over to inspect her  _kill_. "Look, Merle, it's the best one yet!"

          "It was better, I gotta say. Y’ sure y' ain't had lessons before?"

          Sophia snorted. "Yeah, like Ed would ever let me do anything fun."

          He gnashed his teeth together at the mention of her father, but quickly mustered up a strained smile for her. "A'right we're wastin' daylight. Do it again. This time I want speed instead o' accuracy. Fire every one in th' quiver before y' stop."

          "But I'll miss," she said dejectedly.

          Merle knelt down at her side. "What if y' out there, an' there's a bunch o' walkers … And they're after y' mom or Carl or Daryl? Say y' just stuck one o' those fuckers in th' eye, but there's another reachin' out t’ bite somebody y' really love? Y' need to be fast, Peach."

          "What if I can't?" she asked, her gaze wandering over to Carl where he waited for his turn with her bow. "What if I can't save them?"

          "Y' cain't think like that! Yer a Dixon now and we ain't got it in us t' quit. Now what're y' gonna do?"

          Sophia straightened her shoulders and adopted a hard look. "Aim for the head. Steady hands and steady heart."

          Merle winked at her and climbed to his feet, checking her quiver to make sure she had all ten arrows. "That's m' girl. Now show me whatcha got."

          Carol nearly shrieked as a hand briefly touched her shoulder. She turned to find Daryl standing at her side, a finger to his lips. She huffed out a sigh of relief and scooted back behind the tree.

          "Didn't mean to scare y'," he whispered, watching over her shoulder. "She's good."

          "She seems to have a good teacher." Sophia had nearly depleted the quiver, and though she didn't hit the target every time, she  _did_  hit the tree it was tacked to.

          "She does. Who d’you think taught me?"

          Now her curiosity was piqued.  _There_  was a story she wanted to hear. She only hoped she'd be able to get him to part with it. She could well imagine his older brother teaching him the ins and outs of weapons training. She wondered if she'd learn quite so easily. Somehow, she didn't think so.

          "C'mon … she's in good hands," he murmured, leading her back to the clearing by the lake. "Wonder if Carl's gonna do as well. Lori coddles him too much. She needs t’ ease up an’ let th’ kid breathe."

          Carol frowned. "Can you blame her? She's terrified like the rest of us, Daryl. Our biggest fear is that something is going to happen to our children and we aren't going to be able to stop it."

          "Unknot your drawers there, woman. Didn't mean nothin' by it," he retorted. "It's jus' that th’ best way t’ protect 'em is t' arm 'em." He looked over, encouraged to find her listening to him. He loved the way she hung onto his every word. It made him feel as if what he was saying was important to her. "Look how everyone runs around this place … most of 'em without even a knife. What if we were attacked? They jus' gonna run an' hide?"

          Carol sighed. "More than likely."

          "Well not me an' mine," he scoffed. He led her over to a blanket he'd spread out over a large flat rock, urging her to sit. He held out a hand and she removed the .45 from her hip, gladly handing it over. "First thing y' need t' know is how t' tear it down, clean it, inspect it, an' then put it back together."

          "Yes, because you make it sound so simple," she said dryly.

          He shot her a narrow-eyed look. "This is serious, woman. It will save your life one day." Slowly he tore the weapon down. If she was paying attention, she'd have no trouble putting it back together.

          Carol's hands trembled the entire time, nervous as she tried to remember step by step. She didn't want to disappoint him. He only had to correct her twice. He then made her take it apart three more times and reassemble it before he was satisfied.

          "Not bad. Y' need t' practice every day 'til y' can do it in your sleep." Daryl observed her closely taking note she still looked a bit green. Why was she so afraid of a weapon which would someday be necessary to keep her safe? He dug in his hunting sack until he found a box of rounds. "Here … load the magazines."

          The little leather pouch on her belt held six mags, she found as she reached for them. "Why'd you choose this particular gun for me," she asked quietly as he showed her what to do.

          Daryl shrugged. He wasn't about to tell her how he'd agonized about choosing the perfect weapons for her. "Tiny hands. Wanted somethin' smaller so y' wouldn't have trouble with th' grip. And th' kickback ain't too bad neither."

          Carol held out her hand and frowned. "You think my hands are tiny?"

          He nodded sheepishly and took one of the handguns to show her how to fit the magazine. He handed it back, and he noticed how she trembled. "Y' ok?"

          She took a deep shuddering breath and shook her head, unable to meet his gaze. "No, not really."

          Daryl placed the .45 in her hand and wrapped her fingers around the grip. "C'mon, y' ain't gonna learn sittin' here." He moved over to the line of tin cans he'd set up for her to practice. "Wanna tell me why you're scared?"

          Again, she shook her head, unwilling to relive the paralyzing fear she'd felt the time Ed had threatened her with his own gun. "I'm trying, Daryl. I don't want to be afraid anymore." Yet she couldn't seem to take her eyes off the remaining gun in his hands.

          Seeing where her gaze had settled, he moved back to her side and slipped it into the holster at her hip. He could practically feel some of the tension drain off of her. It didn't take much to piece together what may have happened with a husband like she'd had. It made him see red, but he wasn't going to let her see his temper. Not today. He wanted her to gain confidence and conquer her fears, not add to them.

          He slipped around behind her and kept his voice low and even. "It's ok, just relax. That weapon is an extension of your arm. Y' control it … It don't control you." He touched her elbow gingerly, silently urging her arm up. "Adjust your grip. Rest your index finger alongside th' gun. Y' don't want t' curl it over th' trigger 'til you're ready t’ fire."

          Carol focused on the timbre of his voice, the smooth silk of it washing over her body to take up residence in her belly where a warmth began to grow. It chased away more of her fear and urged her to fight for the control he'd promised. She brought up her left hand to steady the right which held the gun.

          "Good … now flick th' safety off an' line up your shot. Y' can do this." He tapped the sight at the end of the barrel and backed off to give her room. "And remember t' breathe." A full minute passed before she finally pulled the trigger. The kickback sent her back with an  _oomph_  into his chest. She'd altered her stance at the last second, sending her off balance and her shot wild.

          His hands went to her waist to steady her, and she hung her head in shame. "I'm sorry!" her voice quavered, and she could feel the burn of tears threatening behind her lids.

          He held her a moment more, trying to reassure her. "Carol, stop. Y' didn't do anythin' wrong." He set her away from him and ducked his head, trying to catch her eye. "I'm not Ed! I'm not gonna punish y' for shit that ain't your fault. Hell, I ain't the kinda man who would punish y' period!"

          "I know," she said, her voice raspy with unshed tears. "It's just hard to break old habits."

          Now  _he_ had a difficult time meeting her gaze. "It'll get better." He knew better than anyone the demons riding her.

          Carol straightened her shoulders as she'd seen her daughter do earlier when faced with Merle's challenge. If Sophia could find her own confidence, so could she. "Can I try again?"

          "Yeah," he said, a quirk lifting the corner of his mouth as he noticed the determined set of her jaw. "Have at it. Just remember t' plant your feet this time."

          She emptied the magazine over the next twenty minutes, taking out all six cans but wasting more ammo than necessary. "I suck at this," she groaned, borrowing one of Sophia's favorite words. "I couldn't hit the broad side of a barn."

          Daryl snorted. "What, y' expected t' come out here an' hit th' mark dead center every time? Ain't happenin'. You'll get better. Jus' gonna take practice."

          He made her reload the magazine and set the safety again before he allowed her to holster it once more. She felt a little better now that she had some knowledge as to what she was supposed to do.

          Carol started for the tree line, but his soft voice halted her. "If you're not in the tent or with me and Merle, y' better have that belt on. I don't want nobody sneakin' up on y' unawares. Got me?"

          She shivered at the thought of Ed taking her by surprise. "Yeah … Yeah, I do."

 

*.*.*

 

          "I have to cook this … mystery meat since it's done thawing. I don't want it to go bad," Carol murmured distractedly as she continued to go through the small cooler. "Does that girl ever label anything? How am I supposed to know what it is?!"

          Daryl yawned where he lounged against the log by the campfire sharpening Carol's knife. "Dunno. Why don'tcha open it an' see? Might be pork or beef."

          Carol grinned Cheshire-like. "Oh, wouldn't that be a welcome change," she sighed.

          "Hey!" he grunted in mock offense. "Y' knockin' all th’ fresh game I bring y'?"

          She scooted over to sit at his side, leaning her elbow down on the log to peer down at him with bright wistful eyes. "Just think of it, Daryl. Herb crusted pork chops with baby red potatoes and braised spinach … "

          His stomach gave an audible growl. "Damn, woman, you're killin' me! Do y' have t' talk about stuff we want but ain't likely t' get no time soon!?"

          "Mmm or a juicy prime rib with -"

          She giggled as he shot her a disgusted look and reached over to swipe the wrapped meat from the cooler. He set it on his lap as she peered over his shoulder. At the last minute, he snatched it away. "Naw, I don't think I'll show y' now since y' teased me."

          Carol snorted. "C'mon … I'm the one who's going to have to cook it."

          He eyed her with a sideways look and gave in, peeling back the white butcher paper to reveal a whole cut up chicken. "Yard bird," he grunted.

          She squealed in delight and took it from him, rewrapping it for later. There was one more identical package in the cooler which she wasted no time in making sure it was more of the same. "I don't think I've ever been more turned on by the thought of roasted chicken. Now I feel guilty."

          Daryl almost swallowed his tongue. He did  _not_ need to think about her turned on.  _Fuckkkk_ _!_ "Uh … Why, I mean, what do y' have to feel guilty about?" he asked thickly.

          "Well, weren't you planning on giving those rabbits to Lori and Andrea to cook for everyone tonight?"

          "I guess. Still don't see why that should make y' feel guilty." He couldn't seem to grasp her logic when he was still stuck on thinking about her  _turned on_ remark.

          Carol chuckled. "Because while they're fumbling about trying to come up with new ways to prepare rabbit, we'll be sitting here enjoying succulent roasted chicken." She climbed to her feet to rummage in the crate of canned goods and leftover root vegetables Daryl had stored there.

 

*.*.*

 

          Merle was only half awake when he finally stumbled from the tent. After bow lessons with Sophia and Carl, he'd had a chance to catch a three-hour nap. He was still exhausted, and he had to take first watch due to Daryl's hunting trip in the morning.

          "Where th' blue blazes y' find chicken durin' th' fuckin' apocalypse?" he asked around a mouthful of mashed sweet potatoes. "Mighty fine eats, by the way, lil' sister."

          "Compliments of your friend Marty." She wrinkled her nose playfully at their atrocious table manners. Sophia dangled a fork in front of Merle's nose which he promptly ignored, setting his spoon aside and tackling his chicken with his fingers. "There's more, Merle. You don't have to eat quite so fast."

          "Not bad manners, jus' good food," he mumbled.

          Sophia giggled. "No … It's bad manners."

          Daryl slowed down a bit, casting Carol an unsure glance as he sucked grease and spices from his fingers. "Y' got your gear ready for tomorrow?" he asked quietly. "We're gonna head out before first light."

          "I think so. I just need to ask Lori if she'll take Sophia while we're gone."

          Merle's head shot up. "Why? She can stay with me. I'll look after Peach."

          "It's ok, Merle. I promised Carl I'd try to spend the night. He wants a rematch since I thoroughly kicked his butt last time at Uno. Besides, wouldn't you like a night off?" Sophia asked as she began gathering up their empty plates.

          He sent a faint smile her way, but she didn't like the expression he wore when he looked over at her mother. "Y' don't trust ol' Merle t' look after 'er while y' gone? That it? Scared I'm not fit to take care o' her?"

          "Of course, I trust you," Carol said sincerely. "You and Daryl have done nothing but protect us since you took us in. But this was Sophia's choice to stay with Carl. Not mine."

          Daryl shook his head, amazed to see his brother's butthurt soothed so easily by the two ladies they'd adopted. Maybe there was hope yet for Merle Dixon, he thought. Then again, maybe not …

          As Carol and Sophia busied themselves cleaning up and then gathering up their things to go bathe, Merle chuckled lowly. "So … Yer takin' Mouse out in th' woods … fer two days … t' teach 'er how t' track an' hunt. Alone … Jus' the two o' ya."

          Daryl flushed a startling shade of puce. "Shut up, asshole."

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

          He supposed he'd just have to get used to it, Carol's propensity to nestle into his back while they slept. Of course, moving his bedroll away from her was out of the question. If he weren't so stubborn, he'd admit he liked the way she curled all kitten-like against him. He wondered if she even realized she was doing it. It was a dangerous game he was playing. Her presence at his back was too comforting. It brought him peace to know she was there, that she unconsciously sought him out in her sleep, and it sent  _him_  into a deeper sleep. It chased away the demons and allowed him to rest. Good overall for his body … not so much for his peace of mind.

          Daryl sighed and lay there a moment longer, simply enjoying the quiet before the day began. At least Merle hadn't come barging in to poke fun at him, he thought with relief. Why his brother had to constantly rib him about his relationship with Carol, he couldn't understand. Merle refused to believe they were just friends. He snorted. As if she'd ever see him as anything more. And there was the issue of if he could trust her with his past. She had enough burdens to carry around with her; she didn't need him to add to it. He couldn't allow himself to be selfish, even if he could ever allow her in more than he already had.

          The soft sound disturbed her slumber and he felt her stiffen against him, a sharp intake of breath stirring the damp hair at his nape where her face pressed to his warm skin. She quickly withdrew, and he could only imagine what was going through her mind. He rolled onto his stomach and turned his head to face her in the dim light the moon provided through the tent flap.

          Carol brought trembling fingers to her lips, her eyes wide. "Daryl, I'm so sorry … I didn't mean -"

          Daryl shook his head, a furrow appearing between his brows. "Y' apologize entirely too much, woman. Y' was asleep."

          "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, though," she protested.

          He looked away, using the excuse of checking on a still sleeping Sophia over her shoulder. "Y' won't be apologizing come winter an' y' need my body heat t' keep y' warm. It's nothin', so stop your damn worryin'."

          Carol's lips turned up in a faint smile. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I never liked to be touched in my sleep, and I certainly never sought out to cuddle Ed in the middle of the night."

          Daryl sat up and reached for his boots to pull them on. "That's a shocker," he scoffed. He was surprised she'd never sewn Ed up in a bed sheet and took a baseball bat to his head. But his Carol was too good for that. She was the type who couldn't bear to kill that spider which lurked in the shower. Did she even have spiders in her shower? Ugh! He was getting maudlin. Time to go! "I'll … uh … let y' get dressed."

          "I won't be but a minute," she promised, watching him grab his gear and step through the flap.

          She traded out her black yoga pants for a pair of jeans and pulled a brown button up over her white tank. She was pulling on her boots when she noticed her daughter staring at her with sleepy eyes.

          "Mama, you're smiling," Sophia whispered.

          "Was I?" Carol asked, scooting close to Sophia to brush the hair from her brow.

          The girl nodded. "I like when you smile. You never did when we lived with Ed. I'm glad you're happy now."

          A little piece of her heart broke for what her daughter had seen and heard over the years. "I am too, baby. Are  _you_  happy?"

          "I really am, Mama. I hope you have a nice time with Daryl on your hunting trip."

          Carol pulled the blanket up around her daughter's shoulders and leaned over to place a soft kiss to her cheek. "I'm sure I will. You stay close to Merle, and when you spend the night with Lori and Carl, make sure you stay in her sight. Remember to be aware of your surroundings at all times like Daryl and Merle showed you."

          "I promise, Mama," Sophia replied earnestly. "And I have my knife and my bow in case there's trouble. Merle said I could shoot Ed in the other cheek if he tries to mess with me."

          Carol bit her lip to keep from laughing and tried to adopt a stern expression. "No, you may not. Seems I'm going to have to have a word with Merle Dixon. You are only allowed to shoot at targets and walkers. Do you hear me, Sophia?"

          The girl smiled. "Yes, Mama."

          She kissed her daughter once more before grabbing her pack. "I'll see you tomorrow, baby. I love you."

          Sophia yawned and hugged her pillow. "Love you too, Mama."

          Daryl was waiting for her, standing shoulder to shoulder with Merle at the edge of camp. "Merle, did you tell Sophia she could shoot her father in the behind?" she asked, looking through her rucksack one more time to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything.

          "No," the elder Dixon hissed menacingly. "I told her she could shoot  _Ed_  in the  _ass_  if'n he tried t' mess with 'er."

          For the first time, she noticed Daryl hadn't moved. He barely seemed to be breathing, yet when she stepped closer to him, he was radiating tension and barely contained anger. She opened her mouth to scold Merle, but then she happened to see what had her friends so focused in their rage. Ed was sitting in his lawn chair across the path openly returning their stare with one of his own.

          When her ex-husband saw he had her attention, he rose clumsily to his feet, still sore from his wound. "Carol …"

          Daryl's arm shot out, roughly pushing her behind him as he and Merle formed a human shield around her. "Don't even think about it, y’ piece o' shit," Merle growled lowly, his hands caressing the rifle in his hands. "Jus’ give me a reason."

          Carol rested her hand at the small of Daryl's back, his head whipping around to show her she had his attention. "Let's just go, Daryl. I don't have anything to say to him, and I don't want to hear any of his lies. Please."

          "Carol, can't I just talk to you for a minute?" Ed asked in a civil tone as he took a step closer.

          Daryl raised the bow in warning. "Y' heard what she said. She don't want t' talk t' your sorry ass."

          The man's eyes flashed hotly. "You can't keep Sophia from me, Carol; she's my daughter too."

          Carol felt the breath hitch painfully in her chest as she squeezed herself between the brothers to gape at him. "Excuse me!?  _Now_  you want to claim  _my_  daughter," she hissed, her chest heaving with outrage. "You've never wanted to be a part of her life, and now that we're free of you, I'm going to make sure you stay away from her!" She made sure to keep her temper. She didn't want Sophia to wake to this confrontation.

          "Carol, you're  _my_ wife. I'm even willing to take you back after you've been whoring with this trash."

          Both brothers started across the path, consumed by their tempers. Carol pulled at Merle's sleeve, but he shook her off, so she jumped on his back to hopefully slow him down. "Woman, are y' crazy!? Get offa me!" he bellowed.

          Carol wrapped one arm around his neck, holding tight. With the other, she reached out to grab the strap of Daryl's rucksack still on his back. He was able to get in a good punch before her voice penetrated the red haze of bloodlust clouding his vision.

          "Stop it! Both of you. Do you want to wake Sophia and have her see you out here brawling?"

          She loosened her grip from Merle's throat, released Daryl's pack and slid down to her feet. Merle's grip tightened on the rifle. "Why don't I just shoot 'im? Ain't like anybody would miss 'im."

           "No, he doesn't deserve such a kindness, Merle." Carol speared Ed with an icy glare and slid her wedding band from her finger. "I don't really care what you say about me, Ed … but do  _not_  lie to people claiming I'm your wife." She tossed the little circle of gold in the dirt at his feet. "I was your slave and your punching bag, but never did I feel like your wife. Now fuck off. Leave me and Sophia alone or next time … next time I won't stop my friends from killing you."

The big man stumbled back a step at the venom in her tone. She'd never had the audacity to speak to him like that before. "This ain't over, bitch."

          Merle yanked him forward in time to meet Ed's already broken nose with his fist. "Oh, yes, it is!"

           Daryl spat at Ed's feet and took Carol's elbow in a gentle grip. "C'mon, we need t' get goin'."

She didn't give Ed a backward glance. She felt strong, empowered and ready to face what the future would bring. A future with her new family … one which had taken an apocalypse to find.

 

*.*.*

 

           "Y' ok, woman?" They'd been trekking slowly through the woods, climbing a bit higher up the eastern face of the mountain the quarry was situated on before he'd calmed enough to even ask.

 Carol kept her gaze on her feet, trying to study how he managed to move so quietly through the trees without making a sound. "Yeah, I am. It felt good to stand up to Ed. I'm coming to realize I don't need to be afraid, that I'm not alone anymore."

 He huffed a short laugh. "I ain't never seen nobody ballsy enough t' jump on Merle like that without gettin' beat t' death. He must really like y'."

"I can't believe I did that," she groaned.

          "A'right, get up here with me. Y' ain't gonna learn nothin' trailin' behind me," he said, changing the subject. He didn't want to dwell on Ed, and he wasn't about to tell her how proud he was of her. His stomach, as well as his tongue, twisted up in knots and he couldn't get the words past his teeth.

          Carol laughed softly. "Well, I'm trying not to scare off  _all_  the game."

          "Y' won't." He motioned her forward and dropped to his haunches. "Tell me whatcha see."

          "Um … Leaves?"

          "Thank you, Madam Obvious," he drawled, shaking his head. "Bad as Merle. Y' not seein' because y' got too much goin' on in that head o' yours."

           "I'm a woman, Daryl; in case you hadn't noticed," she teased. "My mind never stops even in moments of peace. Before all this happened, I'd spend my days cleaning, cooking, washing and keeping the house in order. I'd make sure Sophia was kept to a schedule, all the while making sure everything ran smoothly so nothing out of the ordinary would incur Ed's temper. When I _did_ have a moment, I would be making lists … Grocery lists, to-do lists …" Her voice trailed off as she thought of the other things which had clouded her mind, none of them good.

Daryl didn't say anything, giving her time to put herself to rights and come back to him. "Close your eyes," he said when he had her attention once more. "Keep 'em shut, an' tell me what y' hear."

          Carol did as he asked and drew in a deep calming breath. It actually did bring her a sense of peace to be able to let go. She had nothing to fear with him at her side, and she could focus on the beauty of nature which still existed in this one small piece of the world. "Birdsong … rustling leaves. Almost …"

          "Almost what?" he whispered, mesmerized by the gentle smile on her lips.

          "Is it possible to hear a breeze?"

          "Not really," he chuckled. "Jus' th' sounds of whatever it disturbs. Ok, what do y' smell?"

          Carol took a deep breath, focusing on the rich deep cadence of his voice. The man was positively sinful. "Pine, musk … Something damp? Water? Maybe it's going to rain."

          "See, y'  _can_  focus when y' try." He rose up to his feet and urged her to follow. "And no, it's not s'posed t' rain tonight. Y' smelling' the creek up ahead. Now that y' clear-headed, I might be able t' teach y' somethin."

 

*.*.*

 

          Merle slept in that morning, knowing Sophia wouldn't leave the tent except to find a convenient tree. He woke to find she'd tidied their belongings and was sitting on her bedroll with a book.

          "Whatcha readin', Peach?" he asked around a huge yawn as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.

          She shrugged, tossing it aside. "Nothin' good. Some gothic crap with an obsessive vampire and the senseless twit of a heroine who …" She paused dramatically, resting the back of her hand against her brow and adopting a lovesick expression. " … will simply perish if he doesn't claim her as his own."

          His mouth fell open and his brows shot up. "Th' fuck?" He snatched it up and frowned down at the couple on the cover locked in a passionate embrace. "Where th' hell y' get this?"

          Sophia shrugged. "I think Jacqui loaned it to Mom, but she hasn't had time to read it."

          "Think I'll hold onto it for y'," he said, stashing it in one of his packs. "Don't want yer mama comin' back an' findin' y' readin' such trash. I'm sure I'd catch hell fer it."

          "What d'you want to do today before bow lessons? We could walk down to see what everyone's up to and maybe grab some lunch," the girl suggested, grinning.

          Merle arched a brow at her. "I think y' jus' wanna hurry down t' see that boyfriend o' yers."

          She snorted. "He's not my boyfriend. Boys are gross."

          Merle reached for his boots. "Make sure y' keep thinkin' that way, Peach. It'll make all our lives a lot easier."

          Merle rubbed the back of his neck as the hot sun beat down on them, late summer giving them no respite at all, and early autumn would be no better.  He'd left the rifle behind, a 9mm glock tucked into the waistband of his jeans. He was in the kind of mood where he almost wished someone would piss him off and give him an excuse to shoot them.

          "You got itchy underwear or somethin'?" Sophia asked as they stepped into the large area where the communal campfire was located, taking a seat next to Carl.

          "No! And m' drawers aren't yer concern, little miss."

          He nodded to Jim and Dale where they stood next to the open hood of the RV, but it was Amy's sullen tone which caught his ear. Shane dropped down onto a camp chair next to him and rubbed at tired eyes.

          "I just don't know why it has to be you. You  _always_  go," she complained, her head falling into her hands.

          Glenn nudged her shoulder. "I always go, and I always come back. I don't know why you're so worried. Besides, this isn't an ordinary run. And we're just talking about it right now. Nothing's for sure yet."

          "Y' goin' on another run?" Merle asked, taking a bottle of water from Sophia.

          Glenn shrugged. "There's a good bit of stuff the group needs … better camping equipment, a few more camp stoves, sterno, clothes, maybe some guns and ammo to equip ourselves. We've compiled a list a mile long. I could sneak in, grab what we need -"

          Amy cut him off with a steely look in her icy blue eyes. "You're  _not_ going alone!"

          Shane balked at that suggestion. "Hell no, he's not. Ain't nobody goes alone on a run; I don't care how good you think you are."

          Merle made a point to ignore the former deputy. He scratched his chin, wondering over the way Sophia was frowning as if she were lost in thought. It was never good when her little brow wrinkled like that. "Where y'all thinkin' of goin'?"

          "In the heart of downtown Atlanta!" Amy screeched. Her little fit of pique was beginning to draw a crowd. "You know where they have that big department store? Lots of smaller boutiques and restaurants?"

          "That place is sure to be crawling with geeks," Hector commented. "We'll need manpower."

          "I can't believe you're seriously contemplating this," Amy argued. She gasped in surprised horror when her sister chimed in behind her.

          "I'm in," Andrea stated calmly, her clear blue gaze daring her younger sibling to object.

          "We really going to do this?" Glenn asked. "Because I still think it would be easier for just me and maybe one other person to slip in and out rather than a whole group."

          "No," Shane shot him down again. "Y'all could carry more and be back much more quickly if you took a group."

          "Merle …" Sophia tugged on his arm. "You should go too. They need you."

          "Are y' crazy, girl? All o' them're about as useful as a one-legged man at an ass kickin' contest. They're all gonna get themselves bit."

          She gave him a pointed look, trying to reason with him. "That's why you need to go. You need to be there to protect them. They might be good at scavenging, but they're gonna need someone to watch their backs."

          Merle twined his large fingers together and tapped his thumbnails one atop the other until Andrea was glaring daggers at him. "Ain't none o' them assholes want me taggin' along, Peach. 'Sides I already got a charge t' look after."

          "Ed's not going to mess with me. He's too afraid of you and Daryl." She crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest. "You need to go, Merle … Please? I'll be safe here with Shane and Dale to keep an eye out for me."

          "They ain't the most vigilant fuckers, y'know," he argued, his gut tied up in knots at the thought of leaving her with limited protection. "What if Ed finds a way t' grab y' and leave. It'd be hard as hell t' track a car, Peach."

          "I got the knife at my belt and one tucked in my shoe. Oh, and I may have given your spare to Carl," she confessed with a wince.

           "What? Does 'is mama know? Cuz I'm not catchin' hell from Queen Bitch if she finds out where it came from. That shit's on you."

Sophia grinned slyly. "So, does that mean you'll go?"

          "Ok," Glenn said, eyeing everyone as they continued to plan who would be going on the run. "So that's me, T-Dog, Morales, Andrea and Jacqui. Anyone else?"

          Merle gave Sophia a long hard look and groaned inwardly, feeling like a fool for caving in to the whims of a twelve-year-old. Not to mention Daryl was going to be pissed at him for leaving Sophia with Shane to guard her. He slowly raised a hand. "Yeah … I'm prob'ly gonna regret it, but count me in too."

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol followed his careful - albeit slow - instructions and wrinkled her nose as her knife slid between muscle and fur. He was insistent she learn how to gut and skin the game he provided. Once he taught her the finer points of Merle's rifle, she would be able to help with the hunting. It wasn't that he needed her help, but in the event they might be separated, she needed to be able to survive on her own.

          "Wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked, taking the hare from her and shoving it onto a makeshift spit over their campfire. He trimmed at a piece she'd missed, and she instantly began to fidget, rubbing at the back of her neck. "Carol, stop. Y' did a fine job."

          She nodded and reached for her pack. "What do you want to go with it?" She held up two single serve tupperware dishes. "I got mac and cheese or leftover mashed sweet potatoes."

          He snatched the dish from her and ripped the lid off. "Where'd y' get mac and cheese?" he asked, digging in with his fingers in his haste to get at what was becoming a treat nowadays.

          Carol shook her head. "I traded with Lori. She was delighted with the chicken I gave her for the mac and cheese. I know how you love it."

          Daryl paused mid-chew. "How'd y' know? Y' ain't never cooked it for me before."

          "Merle told me. You were out hunting, and we got to talking about our favorite foods. Sorry I don't have any hot dogs to go in it."

          He matched the smirk she wore. "Don't knock it. Sometimes all I could find in th' fridge was a pack of hot dogs. They go just fine with mac and cheese in a pinch."

          "Ed had an unhealthy addiction to Spam." Carol wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I couldn't abide the smell. Now it would probably be considered a delicacy."

          Daryl licked his fingers clean and set the dish aside before giving the rabbit a turn on the spit. "Shouldn't be too long 'til we have some real meat," he mumbled, pointing at their dinner roasting over the fire. "Betcha miss th' days y' could just run out t' th' store for a pack o' steaks for th' grill, huh? This is how I've always kept myself fed."

          Carol ducked her head, trying to get him to meet her gaze. "I miss the convenience, yes. It was easier to have all that food to choose from, but I wouldn't want to go back to that life. If the world hadn't gone to hell, I never would've met you." He finally looked up to regard her steadily with smoky blue eyes. "You're the best friend I've ever had."

          His mouth struggled into some semblance of a smile, but faded just as quickly. He turned the spit again and fell silent. Of course, Carol had an ingrained need to chatter at times, now being one of them.

          "What are we going to do tomorrow?"

          "Huntin', trackin', same as t'day. I'm hopin' I can find some larger game, a deer maybe. Think the group might like that," he shrugged, not caring one way or the other. As long as his little family didn't go to bed hungry.

          He split the hare in half, and they ate silently. Carol still ended up giving him what she couldn't finish. "I can't, Daryl. You eat it."

          He did, only to prevent an argument between them. It was no fun camping out with someone with whom you were angry. "You don't eat enough," he grumbled.

          "I eat plenty," she grinned at him over her shoulder as she gathered their dishes and headed towards the creek they'd been following for the better part of the day.

          Daryl trailed after her, his bow resting heavily in his arms as he made a sweep to secure the perimeter of their little camp. Now they'd finished with dinner, and with the twilight coming upon them, he couldn't get his brother's taunts out of his head. Braying jackass was all he was. He'd slept next to Carol since he'd brought her into his tent. Nothing was going to happen just because they were alone.

_But not for lack of wishin' and wantin'. Fuck!_

          Even if she did want him in return, there were numerous problems he'd have to face, the least of which were his scars. She'd turn away from him in disgust or worse … she'd ask for an explanation, and that was just something he didn't think he'd ever be ready for. Then there were her own past issues with abuse. If they were ever able to get past that, he didn't want it to be just some fling. Or some itch that needed to be scratched. Damn Merle for even planting the idea in his head. But damn if it wasn't sprouting into a sapling.

_Why am I even thinkin' about this?_

_Because y' know y' gotta bed down with y' woman, and Sophia ain't gonna be sleepin' on th' other side o' her. She'll curl up against y' with 'er soft lips pressed against y' neck and her hand sneakin' inside of y' shirt, so she can touch bare skin and -_

          "Daryl, are you alright? I asked if you wanted me to take first watch."

          He wondered if she'd think it strange for him to take a dip in the cold creek. He wasn't in the habit of bathing while on an extended hunting trip. Had he mentioned that to her? Would she be suspicious?

          "Uh … no, no I'll take it. Y' go ahead and try t' get some sleep."

          Carol bit her lip as a worried frown knitted her brow. "You're sure you're alright?"

          He nodded, keeping his body turned away from hers. "Fine. I'm gonna do one more sweep an' then … Go t' sleep, woman!"

          She watched him stalk off through the trees, wondering why he'd gone from pleasant to downright grumpy. It couldn't be for the same reason she was sure to get little sleep that night.

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

          He felt better, finishing the short trek around the perimeter of their little camp having given him time to get his head together. There was no use dwelling on something which wasn't going to happen anyway. Daryl sighed. She was getting too close, already in his head. It was going to cause problems if he weren't careful. He couldn't afford to allow himself to become distracted and let his guard down. If anything were to happen to her … he didn't want to think about it.

          At least she'd be asleep by the time he was ready to settle in against the majestic oak where he would have a good vantage point to keep watch. He'd be able to brood in peace. Or so he'd thought, coming to a stumbling halt at the edge of camp, still lost amongst the shadows where the light of their meager campfire didn't extend.

          Carol had spread her bedroll near the oak and sat cross legged atop it, carefully cleaning her guns. He couldn't stop a smile from gracing his lips as his chest swelled with pride. She was taking her training very seriously. She wanted to survive, to protect herself as well as her daughter. His woman wasn't as broken as he'd once thought.

          Daryl moved silently, all the time sticking to the darkness where the light shied. His eyes widened in surprise when her movements slowed, and her chin lifted minutely. She'd heard him. Though she continued at her task as if everything were fine, he knew her ears were attuned to her surroundings, listening for threats. The corners of her eyes crinkled as they narrowed, peering through the shadows from beneath her lashes. There was no sense in causing her undue fear.

          Daryl stepped out of the darkness, no longer careful with his footsteps. He wanted her to know he was coming, wanted her to recognize his familiar tread. "Carol …"

          Her hand reached for her knife, palming it as he touched her shoulder. She rolled away from him, bounding to her feet … ready to run. He caught her hand as she whirled to face him. He wasn't expecting her to stand her ground, and once again she'd stunned him.

          "Easy … easy, it's just me," he growled lowly, relaxing his grip on her wrist.

           Carol jerked away from him, her eyes flashing hotly. "You scared me half to death!" She sheathed her knife and turned away from his when he laughed. "It's not funny."

He dropped down to sit at the base of the oak, amusement lurking behind his gaze. "I really didn't mean t'," he said honestly. "Thought you'd be asleep by now."

          "Like that's likely to happen any time soon," she grumbled. Carol sat down again on her bedroll and finished with her guns silently, making sure they were loaded before setting them near to hand by her pack. "I was here alone. I knew you were nearby, but I couldn't relax enough to sleep."

          "Y' were on guard," he said, digging through a pocket for his cigarettes. "I watched y' for a bit. Not a small thing for y' to be able t' hear me out there."

          Carol shook her head ruefully. "But I didn't  _know_  it was you, Daryl. You are always so quiet, and I thought surely it was someone or some _thing_  else."

          He blew a thin stream of smoke into the air, watching as she curled up with her head on her pack, a shiver wracking her slender form. "Y' ok?"

          "I will be." She rolled onto her other side, facing away from him, and he wondered how long she'd be angry with him.

          He didn't have to wonder long as she huffed an exasperated sigh and rolled back to face him. She turned her pack over and tried to get comfortable, but he could see her struggle. He stubbed out his cigarette and pitched the butt off into the trees. When another few minutes passed, and she rolled onto her back, he knew she wouldn't be finding sleep any time soon.

          Daryl frowned. She'd be useless for her turn at watch if she couldn't rest. Or at least that's what he tried telling himself as he set his crossbow down at his side. "What's wrong?"

          "I can't sleep," she groaned.

          He nudged her with his foot. "C'mere."

          Carol shifted up on her elbows to look at him warily. "What?"

          He spread his legs and patted the ground between them. "C'mon … Y' can lean back on me. Y' been usin' me for a pillow since y' moved in with me an' Merle. Might help y' relax."

          It wouldn't help  _him_ in the slightest, and from the rosy tint of her cheeks she probably wouldn't accept his offer, but he could afford to be a little selfless for her comfort.

          She rubbed nervously at the back of her neck. "You wouldn't mind?"

           "Wouldn't've offered if I did." She crawled over to him and sat stiffly for a moment before leaning back against his chest. He tried so hard not to flinch, but couldn't quite manage it.

 "Daryl …"

 He yanked on the back of her shirt when she moved to sit up. "Stop … It's fine." It was true he quite enjoyed her touch. Hers and hers alone, but there was still that first moment of contact - where in his mind he expected pain - which still put him on edge. "Talk t' me."

Carol glanced up at him curiously. "What about?"

          "I dunno," he said, chewing at his thumbnail as she wriggled around in an effort to get comfortable. "How 'bout y' tell what y' were doin' when it all went down?"

          She chuckled, sighing as he reached over to spread the blanket over her. "It wasn't really all that different from any other day," she began. "School had just let out the week before, so Sophia needed to be picked up from swimming lessons." She turned her chin up to see him listening attentively. "She had signed up for lifeguard training."

          "Ain't she kinda young?"

          "It's never too early to learn how to save someone. And it gave her exposure to CPR training as well." She shook her head free of the cobwebs. "Anyway … I was driving back when the first reports came over the radio. Ed was waiting for us when we got home. He was watching the news and barked at me to pack some clothes and things I didn't want to leave without. He said we were going to leave immediately for the emergency shelters the government was setting up in Atlanta."

          "And y' got hung up in th' traffic snarl before y' could make it," he finished for her. "That how y' met up with th' others? Y' didn't know Lori before that night?"

          "No, why?"

          Daryl shrugged and leaned his head back against the ancient oak. "Y'all just seem close. Like you've known her longer, I guess."

          "Sometimes when you experience something traumatic, it can form a bond. I really don't know. She has her moments, but I do enjoy her friendship. And our children are quite close too, which gives us something else in common."

          Daryl shifted, tucking the blanket around her shoulder as she settled her head beneath his chin. His gaze darted among the surrounding trees as silence fell between them.

          "What about you?" she asked, letting her heavy eyes droop closed. She loved the low sound of his voice, and hoped he'd share his own story to help lull her to sleep. "What were you doing when it happened?"

Daryl snorted. "I'd just gotten off work, an'-"

          She tried to stifle a yawn. "Where did you work?"

          He clucked his tongue at the interruption. He didn't feel comfortable sharing his own story, but he didn't think it would be fair not to. She would understand and wouldn't judge him. "D'you want t' hear this or not?"

          "I  _do_ _!_ I was just curious is all," she said with a teasing smile. "I just want to know more about you, Daryl."

          He gave a doubtful hum. "I used t' work at th' garage on Chestnut over in Newnan. Y' know it?" She shook her head. "Worked there because people hadn't heard th' name Dixon an' didn't know of th' reputation that goes with it."

          Carol jerked her head up, frowning. "Oh, come on," she scoffed. "Anyone can see -"

          "Jus' who I am with everyone but you." He gave her a pointed look which dared her to argue. She was the only person he knew who saw more than what he was. If she kept at it, eventually he might begin to believe it. Maybe.

          "You  _are_  a good man, Daryl … I don't care what you say to the contrary."

          "Merle isn't … or wasn't. Given different circumstances, it wouldn't be hard t' slip back into what he was. An' my daddy was th' worst of us all. Th' reputation was well deserved. Figured it'd jus' be easier t' find a job where I had a chance t' -"

          "To just be yourself." Carol turned where she was lying on her side against him, so she could wrap her arms about his waist. He drew his right knee up to rest against her back and he took comfort from the embrace, the lump in his throat easing.

          "Yeah … Anyway, I was s'posed t' meet up with Merle at  _The Kegger._ That's th' bar 'bout a block from Marty's place. I caught th' news report on TV. People there were freakin' out. So, Merle comes in, and he's draggin' me outta there back t' our shithole apartment t' pack up some gear." His stomach churned violently and had him hoping his dinner wouldn't make an encore appearance. "I thought he was jus' high, or what I'd seen on TV was some kinda hoax an' he was panickin' for nothin'."

          Carol nodded, her short-cropped hair rubbing pleasantly against the scruff on his chin. "High? As in -"

          " _High_ , as in stoned on whatever drugs he had in his stash, Carol." He looked away, not wanting to see disapproval in her crystalline gaze. She and Merle were friends too, and he didn't want to ruin that. Yet he wasn't going to lie or gloss over the truth. "I couldn't jus' leave 'im, not when he was actin' like a ravin' lunatic. So, I packed up our campin' gear. Figured if nothin' else, I could drag 'is ass out t' th' woods for a week an' sober him up. Done it more than once. But then he gets this wild hair … wants t' go check on th' old man."

          He snorted. " _Blood's blood, boy,_  he says. Knew if I didn't go with 'im, he'd take off on 'is own." Daryl's voice lowered as the events of that night replayed in his mind. "We tracked 'im down at our uncle's place. Drew was sick already with that high ass fever. Wasn't bit or nothin', jus' sick. Stuff had to be airborne or somethin' and he just caught it, y'know?"

          Carol hummed thoughtfully. "It makes you wonder how it all got started."

          "Prob'ly some government experiment in germ warfare," he scoffed. "Asshole politicians don't know when t' leave well enough alone."

          "I'm sure they're tucked away somewhere in a hidden bunker eating caviar and waiting it out."

          "Hope all them fuckers rot," he sneered. "So anyway, Merle's tryin' to tell the old man Drew cain't be saved. O' course, he don't wanna hear it. Stubborn bastard."

          "He stayed?" Carol asked, sending him a cautious glance from beneath her lashes as she began to trail her fingers over his side soothingly.

          "Yeah. I dragged Merle outta there, tellin' 'im we needed t' go, but he said we couldn't just leave Jackson there. He was blood an' y' just don't run out on fam'ly." His voice took on a cold edge he could feel in the marrow of his bones. "Both of 'em liked t' preach that shit, but it never stopped either o' them from runnin' out on y' when shit got rough."

          Carol bit her lip to stem the tears burning at the back of her eyes for the pain he must've felt. "Daryl … You don't-"

          He cut her off with a shake of his head. "Naw, lemme finish. We're arguin' there out in the yard, an' we hear Jackson howl … most gawd awful sound I ever heard … an' Merle takes off back inside. Th' only thing I could figure was Drew was dead an' the old man was greivin'. I didn't want no part o' that shit. Merle musta stayed in there for a good twenty minutes more, tryin' t' get th' old man t' come with us. He jus' wouldn't leave Drew.

          "Next thing I know, Merle's yellin' for me. Ain't never heard m' brother sound like that, Carol … like he was terrified or somethin'. I ran back in the house t' find my uncle … " Daryl took a shuddering breath, his features contorting into a pained grimace. "Drew's got 'is teeth buried in Jackson's neck, just tearin' into 'im like he was a fuckin' T-bone steak. Merle pulled 'im off, an' Drew turned on 'im. I had t' put 'im down … ain't had a choice. Couldn't let 'im eat Merle too. That’s when I ain’t had no choice but t’ believe all th’ crazy shit they were reportin’ on TV."

          "What about your father?"

          "He'd already bled out. Drew musta nicked th' artery." He scrubbed a hand over his face and averted his gaze. He didn't want Carol to see just how affected he was by what he'd had to go through. "I found a shovel an' sent Merle out t' get started on th' graves. Didn't want 'im t' have t' watch me put th' old man down. Jackson was a first-rate abusive bastard, but he was still our father."

          "I'm so sorry, Daryl," Carol whispered softly, giving him a gentle squeeze.

          "Merle still blames 'imself for not makin' Jackson come with us, an' all I can think about is how I'm glad, Carol. I'm glad he's dead an' ain't gonna be houndin' me every step o' th' way. Shit's hard enough."

          She brought her hand up slowly, cautiously, to his cheek, her thumb catching a tear he hadn't even realized had fallen. "He hurt you badly … didn't he?"

          Daryl wrapped his fingers loosely over her wrist, his thumb ghosting over the faint tracery of veins there beneath her delicate skin. "Story time's over. Go t' sleep."

           Carol sighed as he tucked her hand beneath the blanket to rest over his heart. He'd gone out of his way to make her comfortable and then to share something with her he'd rather just forget. He had nothing left in him to give and she wouldn't push. She couldn't ask for more … not now. "Goodnight, Daryl."

"G'nite."

 

*.*.*

 

          Sophia giggled as her friend cursed and then glanced around to make sure his mother was nowhere within hearing distance. "It's not fair," Carl whined. "I do a lot better when Merle's giving us lessons."

          "You're just overthinking it, Carl. 'Sides, they oughtta be back soon, right?" Sophia didn't want to let on just how worried she was.

          Merle wasn't just one of the brothers who'd saved her and her mom from Ed. He was her best friend. She could tell him things she couldn't trust even Carl to keep a secret or that she wasn't comfortable sharing with the boy. She missed him terribly and worried the later it got and he still hadn't returned from the Atlanta run.

          Carl slipped his arm around Sophia's shoulders, trying to comfort her. He didn't like the little furrows in her brow or the way her lips pressed tightly together as if she were going to cry. "Hey … You wanna go up on top and play cards or something?" he asked, nodding to the RV.

          "Dale's busy, and you know he doesn't like us to be up there alone," she reminded him.

          "This sucks," the boy hissed. "We gotta be watched like a couple of babies all because your dad's a -"

          "Carl Grimes, I'd rethink the words stuck behind your teeth if I were you," came his mother's scolding reply. "C'mon, you two and we'll go down to the lake to wash up before dinner."

          Sophia crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself. "Yes ma'am."

          "Is Sophia spending the night again if Merle ain't back?" Carl asked as Lori led them to her tent for soap and towels.

          "Of course. I promised Carol she could stay."

          Sophia smirked. "He'll be back before Mom and Daryl, I'm sure." If he wasn't, they'd both be in hot water. Merle for leaving and Sophia for talking him into it. It didn't matter that she'd convinced him to go along to help protect the group … Daryl would be pissed, and her mom would probably steal Shane's handcuffs to chain her to her side. Ugh!

          "You think the group'll bring back some good stuff from Atlanta, Mom?" Carl asked, taking a bundle of clean clothes from her.

          "I hope -"

          Sophia startled at what sounded like sirens echoing off the walls of the quarry. She dropped her burden, Carl grabbing her hand and dashing from the tent. Lori called after them, but the children paid her no heed in their race towards the RV.

          Dale stood atop the vehicle, rifle slung over his shoulder and a pair of binoculars held to his face. Amy stood next to Shane below, wringing her hands. "What is it? Is it them? Are they back?"

          "Stolen car would be my best bet," he called down.

          Lori caught up to the children, wrapping a protective arm around them both as the red Challenger pulled to a stop next to Shane's jeep. "Y'all can't just run off like that!" she scolded, but they weren't paying her the least bit of attention.

          Glenn hopped out of the car, instantly bombarded with questions from the overwrought blonde. "Where are they? Where's my sister … is she alive?"

          Shane had him pop the hood, so he could disconnect the battery and silence the alarm. "Where are the others?" he asked, his fingers still tight around the shotgun he held at his side.

          "They're coming. They weren't too far behind me," the kid explained.

          Sophia studied them all as Lori held her and Carl back from getting in the way. Why was Glenn so anxious? And where were the others? Her hand reached up to toy with the strap of the quiver which crossed her chest. Where was Merle?

          A large cube van pulled in to park behind the white church van, and Sophia could only assume the rest of the group was inside, but she couldn't force herself to relax … not until she could see with her own eyes Merle was safe.

_Keep yer cool, Peach. Don't matter how scared y' are …cain't let people see yer emotions. They'll take advantage, use 'em against y'. Always be in control o' yerself. Trust ol' Merle. I know what I'm talkin' about._

          She schooled her features into a serene expression, though she was poised to run at the first sight of him. Her heart hammered in her little chest as the group began to climb from the back of the van.

          Andrea ran to her sister, who nearly collapsed in relief. Morales was reunited with his wife and children, and Jacqui received a friendly hug from Jim. Dale shook hands with T-Dog, but there was no sign of the eldest Dixon.

          "Mom, where's Merle?" Carl asked, putting voice to Sophia's fear.

          Then Hector Morales called to a stranger, urging him to come and meet the rest of the group. Sophia could only guess as to where they'd picked him up. Carl tensed beside her, his face wreathed in smiles, and Lori gasped as the color drained from her face. Her friend was off and running before his mother could grab him back, shouting, "Dad!" at the top of his lungs.

          Wait, she thought, Carl's dad had died. Or so he'd told her. And now she had to accept the cold truth … Merle hadn't come back with them.

          She was alone. Even Lori had temporarily abandoned her in order to run and greet her husband. Her hard-won control over her emotions fled in an instant and she felt the dam of tears break free. "Where is he?" Sophia howled, turning her angry gaze at Glenn as she ran at him. "Where's Merle!?"

          Shane caught her about the waist and she struggled in his grasp, demanding answers. Glenn knelt before her, his mouth twisted up into a grimace. "Sophia, calm down, baby girl," Shane said gently.

          "I'll calm down when he tells me where Merle is!" she screeched.

          "There was a problem, Soph. Merle was out of control … he and T got into a fight and Rick had to handcuff him to a pipe on the roof," Glenn explained.

          Sophia heaved a choked sob as T-Dog came to stand with Glenn. "You left him there!? How could you do that? I asked him to go to help keep you  _safe_ , and this is how you treat him!?"

          "It was an accident, Sophia," T-Dog murmured remorsefully. "When we were ready to leave, I went back to free him, but I tripped and dropped the keys in a drain. I'm sorry."

          She stared at him incredulously. "You couldn't have picked the lock?" She jerked free of Shane's grasp and sneered at all of them. "You have to go back for him," she stated crossing her arms and lifting her chin stubbornly.

          "Sophia, it's nearly sunset and that place is crawling with geeks," Glenn said, shaking his head.

          "That's no excuse!" she hissed. "You have to go back! He can't stay there … Please!"

          Rick came to stand beside her, his arm still wrapped around Carl. "What's going on here?"

          Sophia shot him a venomous glare. "You left my friend on a roof," she accused. She sneered at the uniform he wore. "You're a cop, yet you left him behind. Would you have done that if it had been one of the others?"

          "I-"

          She didn't give him a chance to defend himself. "You wouldn't have. You'd have figured out a way to get everyone out. Now he's alone, probably thinking he's going to die." Her lower lip trembled as a fresh wave of tears washed over her ashen cheeks. "He's my  _family_ and you  _left_ him!"

          Sophia stared at them all, hatred turning her eyes an icy blue. She spun on her heel, unable to stand being there in their midst a moment longer and ran for the Dixon's campsite. Having no one to protect her was the least of her problems. She'd carve up the first person who thought to invade the privacy of her tent. As she laid down on her bedroll, both her bow and her knife at her side, she could only pray Daryl would hurry and return. She needed her mom … she needed both the brothers, her family. Finally, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to give in to her pain.

 

*.*.*

 

          Shane leaned wearily against the log next to the Dixon campsite and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. It was late, but the sounds of Sophia's sobs had only recently subsided. He could only guess she'd fallen asleep. She'd refused to come out of the tent, had been quite adamant when she'd told everyone to  _piss off_. The little minx had even gone so far as to use something - wire Merle kept handy, no doubt - to rig the flap where it could only be opened from the inside. They weren't getting her out unless they took a knife to the canvas, and no one wanted to face Daryl's wrath when he returned.

          Shane sighed and shook his head. It was going to be bad enough when the hunter found out about his brother being left to die on a rooftop in Atlanta. He let his gaze wander sullenly to the communal campfire where Rick sat surrounded by his family. Of all the people it could have been to step out of that truck, Rick Grimes was  _not_ who he'd been expecting. He'd still been in a coma when the hospital had fallen, first to walkers, and then to the military who'd been charged with clearing the area. He'd witnessed firsthand that slaughter. He shouldn't have survived.

          He'd tried … Fuck knew he'd tried to get him out. Rick was his best friend, for fuck's sake. Of course, he'd tried. It had nearly destroyed him to have to tell Lori and Carl that Rick was dead. What a clusterfuck! Rick had spun some tale about how he'd woken up, alone, scared and without a clue as to what had happened to the world. He'd been taken in by a man and his son who'd helped him with his recovery and sent him on his way. The former police officer had more luck than sense.

          Shane swiped a hand over his face and settled the shotgun more comfortably across his legs as he stretched. Ed sat in his lawn chair across the path, giving him the stink eye. The bastard was probably just waiting to catch Sophia alone. He jumped about a foot when Rick stepped out of the shadows.

          "Damn, man, 'bout scared me to death," he said, taking a labored breath. "What you doin' up here?"

          "Came to find you." Rick sat down next to him. "We haven't really had a chance to talk since I got here," he spoke quietly. "I wanted to say thank you … thank you for taking care of my family, for getting them out."

          Shane shrugged. "You'd have done the same for me."

          "Yeah, I would." He wiped his hands on his borrowed jeans. "Pretty good setup here. Y'all meet everyone up on the highway? I believe that's what Lori said."

          "After Atlanta was bombed, we just got as many people together as we could and took to the hills. Ain't had no other choice. Had to do right by them, get them to safety."

          Rick nodded. "So, what's the story with the little girl? She Dixon's daughter?" he asked. Lori hadn't elaborated about the scene earlier, and neither had anyone else.

          Shane snorted. "Man, this place ain't nothing but a damn soap opera. So much drama, we should charge admission."

          "How so?"

          "See the big guy over there?" He pointed over at Ed. "That's Sophia's daddy. Carol's her mom, but she ain't here right now. She's on a hunting trip with Daryl. They should've been back today, but it's not unusual for Daryl to hunt for days at a time. Anyway, Ed's a foul fuck … Likes to beat on women and children, particularly his wife. Well, 'bout a week ago, their little fight spilled out of their tent, and Daryl took exception to it. Shot ol' Ed in the ass with his crossbow and took Carol and Sophia away from him. Merle and Daryl pretty well domesticated themselves. Done right by those two at least. They're a couple of hardasses, but they have a healthy respect for Carol and her daughter. Ed ain't got a snowball's chance in hell of hurting them again while they're under the Dixon's protection."

          Rick covered his mouth with one hand as he shot a look of ill-disguised horror at his friend. "And I left her self-appointed protector handcuffed on a roof. That why you're up here watching over her?"

          Shane tilted his head to the side, his gaze lost in the flames of the small campfire. "It's gonna be hard enough to explain to Daryl about Merle. I don't want to have to tell him we left Sophia unprotected."

          "He really that bad?"

          "Man, lemme tell you what you can expect from Daryl Dixon … He's either going to try to slit your throat with that buck knife he totes around with him, or he'll shoot you in the ass with his crossbow,"

          Rick laughed. "Oh, c'mon. You're pulling my leg."

          Only Shane didn't so much as crack a smile. "Better watch your back, brother. Daryl ain't the kind of man you want as your enemy. There ain't no law anymore, no cops, no jail, and it's his type that'll survive in this new world and come out as the last man standing. And from what I can see … you gonna be at the very top of his shit list."

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

          "Sophia?" Shane called, kneeling next to the tent flap. It was already hot at eight in the morning, and he could feel sweat beading along the nape of his neck. "Baby girl … please. Just come on out and we'll talk about it. You can ride in the jeep with me down to the lake and fill the water barrels. C'mon."

          "Leave me alone, Shane. I don't wanna talk right now," she said dejectedly with a sniffle she wasn't quite able to disguise.

          "Sophia, it was an accident. T-Dog didn't mean to drop the key."

          He could hear her working the flap open, but he didn't expect the outright fury in her gaze as she poked her head out of the tent.

          "And that's supposed to make me feel better? He's been chained to that roof all night with no food, no water, no shelter. How would you have felt if they'd done that to you, Shane?"

          He averted his gaze. "I wouldn't have liked it one bit."

          She crawled past him out of the tent and planted her hands on her hips. Sighing, she shook her head. "It was wrong. Despite how y'all feel about him, Merle's still a human being and deserves better. We need to go after him."

          "What is this  _we_  business?" he scoffed. "You ain't going nowhere. Your mama would have a stroke."

          Sophia narrowed her eyes, pinning him with her steely glare. "Daryl will go when he gets back. Rick Grimes just better hope Merle is ok."

          "That's what I wanted to talk to you about." He dropped down to his haunches, not wanting to have their conversation with him towering over her. "Rick's talking about going back, to cut Merle loose and bring him home."

          "Really?" she asked, her lips turning up into a bright smile.

          "You bet. Now you wanna come down to the lake with me or not?"

           Sophia climbed into the jeep beside him and adjusted the bow on her back. "Shane? You might want to tell Rick to hang onto those cuffs when he lets Merle go. He's really not gonna be happy. Might be better to just bring him home and let me turn him loose."

Shane huffed a short laugh as he shifted into gear. "I think you're right."

 

*.*.*

 

          "Look, look, look!"

          Carol peered around him and squinted at the tiny bit of blood … on a rock protruding from the middle of another stream. How many damn streams were there on this mountain, and how was it he seemed to want to trek through every blasted one of them? The last one had been littered with so many algae-covered rocks, she'd slipped and landed in the cold water before Daryl had been able to help her. She was tired, hungry, and now she was soaked to the bone. She didn't give a damn if he'd picked up the trail of the doe he'd shot again.

          "How can you even see it?" she grumbled.

          He had a death grip on her elbow as they crossed the gently rushing water, not about to take a chance of her taking another swim. They'd already tracked the deer for what had to have been two miles. It was a good thing he helped support her at the rapid pace they were moving. To hell with the gym … just go hunting with a Dixon.

          Unable to take another step, she freed her arm and leaned back against the nearest tree, her chest hitching painfully with each breath. "Daryl …"

          He handed her the canteen and chewed at his lower lip. "Sorry. I forget you're not used t' such a pace."

          "I just need a minute," she murmured, casting him a furtive glance to judge his mood. He seemed anxious, but when wasn't he? She was just glad he didn't seem angry with her. He had shown her a patience on this little trip she hadn't been aware he was capable of. She handed back the canteen. "Ok, I'm ready."

          "You'll get better. Just pretend a pack of walkers are nippin' at your heels." He adjusted the grip on his bow and held a branch out of her way, so she could pass. "We're gettin' close t' camp."

          Carol looked around in surprise. "This doesn't look like the way we came."

          "S'not. We've come full circle. We'll come out towards th' rear of th' quarry rather than where we set out towards th' entrance," he explained. "Y' did good for your first trip out."

          She felt a sense of pride in herself at his praise, something she hadn't felt in too many years to count. "You think so?"

          He nodded, keeping his eyes on the bloody trail they were following. "You'd think she woulda bled out by now with three bolts in 'er."

          "You'd think," she agreed, her feet aching as she trailed behind him. "If we can't find the doe, at least we have a mess of squirrels to stew."

          "Stop." He smirked. "Y' know you'd rather have venison for dinner."

          Carol's laughter died a quick death as a scream rent the air. "Oh, god, Daryl, that's Carl and Sophia!"

          "C'mon, we're almost there."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl held her back when she would have gone charging through the brush, making it clear he wouldn't let her rush headlong into unknown danger. He would go first. His gaze drifted slowly to her sidearm and Carol didn't hesitate to draw it off her hip, holding it at the ready. He stepped out of the thicket of trees, dismissing the men in their group as little threat, a curse bursting from his thin lips. "Sum'bitch!"

          "Daryl!" Carol hissed, still waiting for his go ahead. He waved her forward and she gasped, seeing firsthand what had him so pissed off. "Well crap. There's a day wasted," she groaned. "Where are the children? Why were they screaming like that?"

          Dale braced his axe against the ground and leaned heavily on it. "They found a walker feeding on your kill. Why is it even here? They never venture this far up the mountain."

          "They're runnin' out o' food in th' city," Daryl growled, giving the headless walker a good swift kick with each word. "Fuck! We been trackin' that deer for miles." He gave it one more kick for good measure. "It was  _mine_ _!"_

          Carol gasped as the head opened its eyes and snapped its rotten teeth, but Daryl was quick to but a bolt through its eye. She stumbled as Sophia came bounding up the trail and threw herself into her arms. "Mom!"

          "Damn fine waste of a good deer," Daryl grumbled, heading off down the path towards the center of camp, sure in the knowledge his girls would follow.

          Rick and Shane shared a look as Carol holstered the .45 and wrapped an arm around Sophia. One glance at the girl and they could tell the shit was due to hit the proverbial fan.

          "Hi, baby. How'd it go while we were gone," Carol asked, her brow furrowing as she took in the worry etched on her daughter's face. "Where's Merle?"

          She could hear Daryl up ahead of them calling for his brother. Sophia tugged on Carol's hand, forcing her to hurry. "It's a long story and I want Daryl to hear too. C'mon, Mom!"

          "Merle! Get y' ugly ass out here. Carol's gonna stew up some squirrels," he called out as he neared their camp. "Merle."

          Sophia hurried ahead and grabbed his hand, pulling him to a stop. "Daryl!"

          He shot her a small smile which quickly morphed into a scowl. She didn't have to say anything; he knew by the tension radiating from her little body something had happened. His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Where's m' brother? He's s'posed t' be with y', Soph."

          "He went on a run to Atlanta with a group and they left him there," she choked out, all in one long breath.

          "He  _what_?" Carol was sure they'd hear Daryl's outrage in the city. "Th' fuck he thinkin' when he's s'posed t' be here with y’ …  _protecting_ you!?"

          Sophia began to weep silent tears as she wrung her hands, unused to his anger being directed at her. "It's my fault, Daryl. He didn't want to go. I talked him into it, told him he needed to go to protect the others."

          Carol wrapped a protective arm about Sophia's shoulders. "Did you say they left him?"

          Sophia nodded. Shane finally stepped forward to join the discussion, which was a mistake, but one he knew he couldn't avoid with the hotheaded redneck.

          Daryl whirled on him. "What's she talkin' about Shane?" he snapped. He backed up, putting himself between the former deputy and his girls, sending them into the shade cast by the RV where Andrea and Amy were watching and waiting for the fallout.

          Shane kept a good distance, all too familiar with the hunter's hot temper and tendency towards violence. "There was a problem."

          Daryl tensed, looking at the ground while he checked himself, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "He dead? That why he was left?"

          "Look, there's no easy way to say this. Merle was -"

          "Did I ask you? I was talking t' Shane. Who th' fuck  _are_  y' anyway," he asked, catching the man in a sideways glance.

          "Rick Grimes."

          Daryl's eyes narrowed. Lori's dead husband.  _Huh_ , he thought.  _Ol' Shane couldn't be too happy about that. Good. He didn't like him either._ "Rick Grimes … Y' got something' t' tell me? Fuckin' spit it out."

          Rick held out a calming hand, thankful the man was at least going to listen to his explanation. "Your brother was a danger to us all. He had to be restrained … so I handcuffed him to a pipe on the roof. He's still alive."

          Daryl wiped the sweat out of his eyes, the rage he felt, building in his chest. He heard the tiny whimper Sophia made behind him where she stood with her mother and it only made it worse. "Wait … Lemme process this. Y' handcuffed m'brother t' a roof … an' y' left him there!?" he yelled, watching the man flinch.

          "Yeah."

          That calmly uttered word broke him. As if it were just another day at the office for this man. He didn't hear the remorse, didn't see the guilt written clearly on his face. All he could feel was pain and loss and rage. Without a thought, he threw the stringer of squirrels at Rick and charged. He barely registered Carol's cry of warning before Shane tackled him to the ground, but he wasn't down and out yet. He palmed his knife and regained his feet, taking a swipe at the cop who had so little regard for Merle Dixon.

          Rick deflected it, but that only made it easier for Shane to get the jump on him from behind. The deputy's solid forearm wrapped about Daryl’s throat, pulling the hunter back and onto his knees. "Y' best lemme go!"

          Sophia rushed forward and shoved Rick, her tiny hands striking the center of his chest with all the anger she'd been trying to control since they'd returned from Atlanta without Merle. "You leave him alone!"

          "Sophia," Rick gasped, trying to regain his breath. She was stronger than she looked, and she'd taken him by surprise. "Let us handle -"

          The cocking of a pistol cut him off. He looked to his right where Carol had circled around them. She'd made sure to choose an area where other members of their group couldn't sneak up on her and grab her from behind. His partner froze, the .45 leveled at his head.

          "Really don't want to have to shoot you, Shane … but I will if you don't let him go," she said quietly. She held up a hand to Andrea as she took a step toward her, warning her off. "Right now, please."

          Shane smirked, his grip still tight about the hunter's throat. "C'mon, Carol. You ain't gonna shoot nobody. Probably don't know the first thing about that weapon," he snarked.

          She didn't hesitate. Her hand lowered and took aim at the dirt at his feet, her finger quickly curling around the trigger and firing. He jumped back so fast, he nearly fell over on his ass, his eyes wide. "I might've learned a thing or two."

          Daryl rubbed at his throat as he unsteadily climbed to his feet. He nudged Sophia back behind him to stand with her mother who'd already put her gun away now that the playing field had been evened once more.

          "I did what I had to do," Rick tried again to explain. "Your brother doesn't work and play well with others and he was putting everyone in danger."

          T-Dog set down the firewood he'd been bringing back to camp and took a step towards Daryl. "It ain't all his fault, man. I was going to let him go, but I dropped the key."

          "Y' couldn't've picked it up?!" he growled, his voice hoarse and raspy from the abuse to his throat.

          T winced. "I dropped it in a drain."

          Daryl shook his head in disgust. "How th' fuck did I end up with the biggest assholes at th' bottom of th' food chain," he grumbled to himself.

          "Daryl," Sophia said, laying her hand on his arm. "T said he chained the door so none of the walkers could get at Merle. And Rick wants to go after him. He was just waiting on you and Mama before he left."

          He looked down at her, at the worry in her clear blue gaze, and he felt his stomach churn to think of how she'd feel if Merle hadn't survived the night. Now he had another dilemma. How could he in good conscience leave her and Carol there with no one to watch over them.

          "I'm gonna go too," T-Dog added. "I may not like your brother, but it ain't right he got left behind."

          "Jus' tell me where y' left him. I don't need y'all taggin' along an' slowin' me down."

          "You are  _not_ going alone," Carol gasped. "Absolutely not, Daryl."

          He stepped into her personal space "He's m' brother, woman!" he snarled.

          "He's our family too. You made sure of that," she hissed right back, her spine stiffening with newfound courage. "I'm not telling you not to go after him … just not alone." She bit her lip and glanced down at her feet. "You have to come back to us, Daryl. Let them help you."

          He dropped his own gaze and took a deep calming breath, worry and fear for his brother still battling with the thought of leaving her and Sophia unprotected. "While I'm gone, y' are not t' go  _anywhere_ by yourself. Keep your friends close t' you. I mean it, Carol. An' don't stay in th' tent by yourself neither. Have a fuckin' slumber party or whatever it is y' women like t' do."

          "I'll stay safe, Daryl," she assured him as best she could. She'd be worried about him the entire time he was gone, but she wouldn't add to his troubles by letting him see it.

          When they reached the cube van, which they'd be taking in to Atlanta, Sophia wrapped her arms around his waist, clinging to him for all she was worth. "Please come back."

          He brought a hand up to the back of her golden head and stroked his callused fingertips over her hair. "Don't you trust me?" he asked gently.

          "Yeah. And tell Merle not to be mad at me for asking him to go." She still carried that guilt with her, and probably would until she saw him again safe and unharmed.

          "It ain't you he's gonna be mad at, Soph."

          Carol tucked her daughter close to her side and stepped back as Daryl went to climb into the back of the van. He paused as Rick and Shane approached, ignoring T-Dog and Glenn as they got into the cab.

          "You watch my girls while I'm gone," the hunter warned in a menacing tone, stabbing Shane with a piercing glare.

          Shane nodded, eyeing him nervously. "Yeah, man, sure thing."

          Daryl leaned forward minutely, his voice filled with deadly promise. "If anythin’ happens t' 'em … I mean  _anythin’_ … I will give y' a beat down that'll make th' devil 'imself sit up an' take notes."

          Rick's brows disappeared somewhere around his hairline, and he made sure he gave Daryl a wide berth as he climbed into the van. He made a note to keep his distance until he could figure the hunter out.

 


	16. Chapter 16

 

          "This is not how I expected girl's night to go, Lori," Andrea grumbled as she tossed another gutted and skinned squirrel into the bowl.

          Lori chuckled, trying to put on a brave face to mask the worry she felt. She wasn't at all happy her husband was returning to Atlanta to rescue someone like Merle Dixon. She'd just gotten him back and now he was once again putting his neck on the line. If she were honest, she didn't have a lot of faith Daryl wouldn't kill him if they weren't able to save Merle. "Carol's been trekking through the woods like primitive man … er, woman … for the past three days. Least we can do is help her with dinner."

          "It smells so good already and she's barely even started," Amy moaned as she lifted the lid on the big pot to let the steam waft up to her nose.

          "Just wait until I start searing the meat. That should really get your stomach rumbling if the smell of onions and garlic have you drooling," Carol teased.

          Frankly, she was happy to have the task of cooking for everyone to help keep her mind off of how much she missed Daryl. Of the four who'd gone on Operation: Save Dixon - as Sophia and Carl called it - she knew Daryl was the most likely to come back unscathed. She would worry over his safety, but she hadn't realized how much she would miss him. Had they really grown that close in such a short time?

          Jacqui added some wild scallions to the pot and Amy moaned again. "Girl, it's gonna be awhile before dinner is ready. If you're that hungry, go see if there's any saltines in the RV to tide you over."

          "Carol's cooking tonight," Amy said as if that was simple enough to understand. "I'm not letting  _anything_ ruin my appetite."

          Andrea tossed the last squirrel into the bowl and Lori made quick work of quartering them before passing them to Carol. Teresa sat with the children on the other side of the campfire, the five of them immersed in a board game they'd found in the RV. "All we're missing now is a couple bottles of wine." Andrea quipped, cleaning her hands before she curled up in a lawn chair to relax.

          Carol dug through a box of kitchen supplies she'd packed from home at the start of the outbreak and came up with a handful of jars filled with spices. Not to mention a coveted rare box of salt.

           "Leave it to you, the consummate housewife, to not evacuate without her spice rack," Jacqui said with a reverent nod. She toasted her friend with her tin cup of water. "And may we forever be grateful."

"Oh, stop!" Carol blushed, busying herself with browning the meat to add to the stew pot. "The seasoning won't last forever, but in the meantime, we might as well enjoy them."

          "Ed must be suffering horribly now he has to fend for himself," Lori said quietly. "Serves him right."

          Carol glanced up the hill to where her ex-husband sat smoking his precious Marlboro's near his tent. "I don't care one way or the other."

          Amy picked up the potato peeler and started on a bowlful of the spuds. "I wonder why he stays. It's not like anyone wants him here. Does he think you'd ever go back to him?"

          Carol concentrated on her work. "I made it quite clear I'll never go back to him."

          "I hope he doesn't try anything with Daryl away," Andrea murmured thoughtfully. "I don't know how Rick would take it if our hunter shot Ed in the other cheek."

          Lori dug through what was left of the root vegetables and came up with a few carrots to add to the pot. "I think they'll get along fine in time. They just got off to a rough start."

          Jacqui laughed outright. "Is that what you call it? Honey, he pulled a knife on that man of yours. Rick will no doubt start sleeping with a gun under his pillow."

          Amy snorted as she started dicing the potatoes she'd peeled. "Both those Dixons have a temper, but they do a lot for this group. To be honest, I feel safer with them here."

          Carol sent a warm smile her way. It was nice to hear at least one of her friends support the brothers rather than tear them down.

          "Well, since none of you are ballsy enough to ask what we really want to know …" Andrea began, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. "I guess it's left to me."

          Carol returned the meat to the bowl and added flour to the pan of drippings and natural oils from the squirrels to make a roux. "Oh, lord," she groaned, having a good idea as to what was on the blonde's mind.

          Lori and Jacqui shared a conspiratorial grin. Amy set the bowl aside and actually clapped her hands in excitement.

          "Tell us, Carol," Andrea practically purred, "how was your  _hunting_ trip?"

          Carol added the roux to the onion mixture, feeling the heat rise in her neck. And it wasn't from the cook fire either. "Only you could make it sound so dirty."

          "Oh, c'mon," Amy whispered, "you can tell us."

          Carol scoffed, clucking her tongue. "Telling y'all would be worse than taking out an ad in the Atlanta Gazette."

          Jacqui raised her cup, agreeing with her. "Here, here, honey. Then again … Who're we gonna tell?"

          Water was added to the pot from some boiled that morning, and then the meat, potatoes and carrots were thrown in to stew for the next hour, ending Carol's busy work. Now she had no excuse not to sit and chat with her friends. What a horrifying thought.

          "Nothing happened, so get your minds out of the gutter. How many times must I tell you … me and Daryl are just friends."

          Amy huffed in disappointment and propped her chin on her hand. "I don't believe it."

          "Neither do I," Andrea said. "The two of you are like a firecracker just waiting to go off. You're telling me y'all went out alone in the woods and nothing happened?"

          "Daryl is very dedicated to teaching me how to survive. He wants me to learn how to hunt and track game to provide for me and Sophia in case something happens, and he can't be there to do it for us. I learned a lot on our trip."

          She wasn't about to tell them how he'd invited her to curl up against him at night, or how he'd shared his story with her. It felt too much like a betrayal of trust.

          "I think it's amazing he'd even have the patience to teach you something so important," Lori said, her grave tone catching everyone's attention. "How long are we going to last out here without such necessary skills? One of the best things you could've done was to befriend Daryl Dixon."

          "You've already changed, Carol," Andrea agreed. "I never thought I'd see the day you would pull a gun on someone."

          Amy huffed in awe. "I know right! Did you see the look on Shane's face?"

          "He was hurting Daryl," Carol said, lifting the lid on the pot to give the stew a quick stir. She didn't think just how revealing her statement was and didn't look up in time to see her friends share an  _I told you so_ look.

          Jacqui smiled knowingly which caused Carol's blush to deepen. "Which brings us back to your trip, honey. You sure you're not putting the moves on that man? I know y'all had to bed down sometime, so don't tell me it was all about hunting and tracking."

          Carol groaned. The world was going to crap, and her friends wanted to discuss her love life … Or lack thereof. She leaned back in her chair and wrapped her arms around her middle, a defensive gesture she didn't seem able to break. "Nothing happened. We talked. I mean how else are we supposed to get to know one another?"

          Lori met her gaze across the fire. "That's enough, ladies. We're making her uncomfortable. She's just coming out of a bad situation and has the good sense not to jump into another." Advice she wished she'd heeded herself after Shane had informed her Rick had died.

          Amy sighed. "But how long do any of us really have anymore? Every moment is precious."

 

*.*.*

 

          Shane smiled in his sleep, slowly waking to the smell of fresh brewed coffee. Not that instant crap they'd been subjected to, but the real thing. He opened his eyes to meet Carol's where she sat across the Dixon campfire. To look at her genuine smile and honest blue eyes, one would never think she'd have had the guts to pull a gun on him the day before.

          "G'morning," she greeted him, handing over the cup she'd poured for him. "I'm really sorry you got stuck babysitting us last night." She gestured with her free hand towards the tent. "I don't think Lori slept a wink."

          Her friend had insisted Carol and Sophia bunk with her and Carl, but Carol had wanted to sleep in her own tent. She wanted to be surrounded by things belonging to Daryl, to have his scent, his faint presence there to comfort and soothe her. If she'd stayed with Lori, she would have lain awake all night worrying and wondering if Daryl was safe. So, Lori had gathered her things and trekked up the hill to stay with her.

          "Ain't nothing, Carol," he said, suppressing a moan as one hundred percent Colombian burst over his palate. "It's my job to keep y'all safe."

          "No, Shane. It's your job to protect the group, not just us." She passed him one of the leftover biscuits from last night's dinner. "I'm sorry Daryl threatened you."

          "He was worried about leaving you. That man is pure emotion and little control. On top of finding out about his brother, he was doubly panicked. Can't say as I blame him."

          Carol's smile faltered as she met his gaze. "I'd also like to apologize for pulling a gun on you. I just couldn't let you hurt him."

          Shane drained his cup and held it out for her to refill. "Things just got out of hand. Tempers were high." He cocked his head to the side, regarding her in a new light. "He teach you how to shoot like that?"

          A blush crept up into her cheeks as she thought back to the first day he'd begun teaching her. "Yeah, he did. I still have a ways to go, but I'm not afraid of guns anymore."

          "Mind if I see it?" he asked, gesturing to the .45 on her hip. He gripped it gingerly as he took it from her. "Nice piece. More suited to a woman's hands. Small yet effective. He choose these for you?"

          Carol smirked. "He did. Daryl wants both me and Sophia to be able to defend ourselves."

          Shane was thoughtful for a moment. "If we had the weapons and enough ammo, it would be good to teach the others."

          "You want to arm the kids too," Lori grumbled as she slipped out of the tent to join them. She gratefully accepted the cup of steaming coffee Carol offered. "Carl's too young for a gun."

          "He's the same age as Sophia," Carol pointed out.

          Shane nodded. "And you see how proficient she's getting with that bow of hers."

          "Lori, it's not like Shane's suggesting he just give Carl a gun and send him off into a pack of walkers. He's talking about training him … everyone." She took a sip from her own cup. "I wouldn't have let Sophia have weapons if Merle hadn't opted to spend time training her."

          Lori sighed, seeing they were seriously considering this. "I'll talk to Rick about it when he gets back, but I'm not making any promises."

          Shane gnashed his teeth together, still upset about how things had fallen apart with Rick's return. He remembered a time when she'd actually listen to his advice. Instead of dwelling on things he couldn't change, he focused on Carol. "So, what you got planned for today?"

          Carol grinned and gave an exaggerated slap to her thigh. "I thought you'd never ask!" she laughed. "After we go check the snares, we have the joyous chore of … laundry."

          Even Lori groaned. "I volunteer to watch the kids today," she offered. With little to no sleep, she didn't think she had the strength to scrub clothes.

          "Deal."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl was fit to kill. Rick, in particular, and if that man put a gun to his head one more fucking time, he just might. It was understandable … the rage and anguish he'd felt building in him from the moment he'd learned what had happened to his brother … but it was to the point where he could barely control it. He needed to be completely focused on finding Merle and all he could think about was Carol. Carol left behind with Ed lurking around every fucking tree just waiting to get her alone. It was all he could do not to scratch his skin raw from the panicked itch which seemed to crawl right beneath the surface.

          T-Dog hadn't lied about the security of the chain and padlock he'd placed on the access door. Nothing was breaking through it. It took the bolt cutters they'd borrowed from Dale to get onto the roof. That's when another little piece of his own personal hell went straight to shit. He should have known Merle wouldn't just sit there and wait for rescue. He was gone. And from the looks of the congealed blood on the cement, he had been for a while. All that remained was Dale's overturned toolbox, a broken screwdriver and one half of a pair of handcuffs. By the amount of blood, Daryl could only assume Merle had cut himself trying to get free. Once he left the building, the smell would be like putting up a sign for an all you can eat buffet for the geeks below.

          Daryl had followed the trail through the building and then lost him at the bottom of the fire escape. If his brother didn't want to be found, not even Daryl would be able to track him. Especially not in a city the size of Atlanta. He had to give up … for now. If he was well enough on his feet to hide his tracks, Merle would come to him. He'd continue to search for him, but Daryl had his girls to think about.

          He was so ready to return to the quarry, but Rick had other plans and they'd been forced to take shelter in the department store for the night. It didn't do him a bit of good either. He was unable to rest, wondering if Carol and Sophia were safe. Wondering where Merle was and if he were even alive.

          And, of course, their fearless leader was an asshole. He'd been more concerned with the bag of guns he'd brought from the hick town he used to serve. A bag of guns he'd dropped while trying to outrun an army of walkers when he'd first met the group. Naturally, with him and Rick at each other's throats, their plan was doomed to failure. They were able to retrieve the bag, but lost Glenn in the process. Kidnapped by a rival group.

          Daryl was disgusted. Rick had been able to negotiate with the leader for Glenn's freedom and Daryl hadn't gotten the opportunity to shoot anyone.  _And_ Rick had given the man half their guns to protect his group. He felt a bit ashamed of himself after he found out about the senior citizens they were trying to care for. The elderly and infirm who'd been abandoned by their caregivers.

          After that fiasco, he really wasn't surprised to get back to where they'd parked to find the van gone. It eased his mind to know his brother had some form of transportation, but in turn it pissed him off they'd be returning to camp on foot.  _Fuckin' perfect!_

 

*.*.*

 

          "We're going to be eating good tonight, ladies!" Hector stated, grinning from ear to ear. "You have my eternal gratitude. "

          Carol wrinkled her nose. It wasn't that she wasn't happy for the fish Amy and Andrea had caught, she just really wasn't looking forward to having fish entrails wedged up under her fingernails when she was forced to help clean them. Eww!

          Ed was lurking about more, his wound apparently not paining him as much. So much so, she'd asked Shane to take Carl and Sophia down to the lake for a swim. They were underfoot today, and she was nearly tripping over them. She couldn't go on this way having to fear Ed where someone had to constantly be on guard over them. It was affecting her work, and something needed to be done.

          Perhaps when Daryl and Merle returned, they could sit down and come up with a solution. She knew, however; either Ed would have to go, or they'd have to leave the group and make it on their own. She didn't want to leave. She was beginning to think of them all as family. Ed was the only dark cloud hovering on the horizon. Not to mention, Sophia would be devastated if she were separated from Carl.

          She went to stand next to Lori at the table and pulled the knife from her belt. It was sharper than any they had for cooking despite its size. It should do nicely. Unfortunately, Ed decided to join them.

          The temperature around the table dropped several degrees as the women glared at him. "Something you need, Ed?" Andrea asked coldly.

          "Don't need nothin' from you, Blondie," he sneered. "Just need a word with my wife."

          "Wasn't aware you had one of those anymore, Ed," Lori deadpanned, not bothering to look up at him.

          Carol turned her body away from him, positioning herself where he couldn't grab hold of either of the pistols on her belt. "Neither was I."

          Amy flicked fish guts at the pail by his feet and he jumped back. "The men should be back any time now. Best not let Daryl catch you over here harassing Carol."

          "Mind your business, girly. And I don't give a damn about that redneck trash. He don't scare me."

          Carol smirked. "Really? I'll remember to tell him when he gets back."

          Ed gripped her upper arm with his big meaty fingers. "The only reason your lover got the drop on me was because of that damn crossbow he totes around. He snuck up on me -"

          Her knife pressed sharply against his groin as she met his gaze. She took immense satisfaction in the not so subtle whimper which passed his lips. "While you were beating the crap out of me, Ed," she finished for him. "I can see how that would've been distracting for you." She pressed harder with the knife and watched the blood drain from his face. "Now go away, and I might be merciful and not geld you."

          He released her and stalked away, back to his own camp, but she knew he'd try to find a way to get back at her for such a humiliating scene. She winced and rubbed at her arm. She was going to have a hell of a time explaining the bruises in the shape of Ed's finger marks on her arm. She just hoped Daryl wouldn't take out his temper on Shane. Maybe he wouldn't notice.

          "Oh. My. Gawd! Carol that was amazing!" Amy squealed. "You just went full-on Dixon at him … Well without all the yelling."

          Lori stared at her friend wide eyed while Andrea's peals of laughter could be heard clear across the quarry. "Way to go, Carol."

          "Sophia's going to be so upset she missed it," Lori said.

          Carol smiled, proud of herself, and went back to cleaning their catch.

 

*.*.*

 

          Sophia fidgeted as she handed her empty plate to Teresa and leaned back against her mother's legs. Over and over her fingers caressed the string of her bow, her thoughts troubled as she thought of Merle. The feathered headdress crowning her head gave testament to their friendship. Long hours spent playing checkers and chess, the patience he'd shown when teaching her how to use her bow, and the deep-seated protectiveness he felt for her did as well. As full dark came and settled in, she couldn't help but worry. The other members of the group relaxed around the campfire, but she was too anxious to let herself enjoy the merriment.

          Though her mama didn't say anything, she knew Carol was fearful too. Her hand clenched around the ebony finish of her bow. What could be keeping them? What would she do if neither of them came back? Surely her mother wouldn't make them go back to Ed. She rested her head against Carol's knee and mustered up a smile for her. No, she'd never go back to Ed. Her mama was stronger now. She wouldn't cave to his lies and false promises. If nothing else, they had each other.

          However, in one very big part of her heart, she didn't want it to be just the two of them. They were a family now and it just didn't work without Daryl and Merle. Why weren't they back yet!?

          She smiled and nodded at the Garcias as they bid everyone goodnight. Sophia was determined she wasn't going to bed until the missing members of her family came home safe and sound. A yawn escaped her as Carol removed the headdress from her golden hair – stowing it away in the pocket of her jacket - and carded her fingers through the locks. She was so sleepy. And why wouldn't she be with Dale droning away in a monotone, the words all blurring together as her eyes grew heavier.

          Sophia was drifting away, her mind losing the battle with her determination to stay awake, when the first scream rent the air. "What's happening?" she cried, trying to shake off her fugue as she clambered to her feet.

          The camp erupted in chaos, and terror quickly followed. She looked out to the east to see the Garcias trying to fend off three walkers which had come out of nowhere, and more were stumbling out of the woods.

          "The RV," Carol hissed, drawing the .45 from her hip. "Get to the RV, Sophia. Up the ladder … You'll be safe there and can use your bow." She gave the girl a firm push. "Go, baby, I'm right behind you!"

          Sophia ran, dodging around Morales, Dale and Jim using whatever they could find to wield as a weapon. Gunfire from Shane's Mossberg echoed across the quarry, the report deafening her. Which was why she didn't hear her father when his meaty arm circled about her waist and pulled her struggling form against him.

          "Never thought I'd be happy to see those rotted things, but I am now," he chortled in her ear.

          "Ed, you let her go," Carol yelled to be heard over the melee, raising her gun and firing over his shoulder at the walker creeping up behind him.

          "I will …  _after_ you get your ass in the car. We're leaving."

          "Are you insane?" she gasped at him, pulling on Sophia's arm as she pressed her back against the RV. "In case you haven't noticed, we're under attack! Now is not the time for this!"

          "Think I give a shit what you think?"

          Sophia trembled in his grasp. She didn't know what she feared more, the walkers or the man who held her. Merle's voice drifted through her mind.  _Control, Peach … never give it up. Soon as y' do, yer dead._ She ceased her struggles and fell slack against him. While he fought to figure out what had happened to her, she gripped the knife at her belt, withdrawing it from the sheath and plunging it into his thigh in one smooth motion. He dropped her like a hot rock as he howled in pain.

          Sophia shot up the ladder to the roof of the RV, Carol right behind her. She crawled to the edge and steadied herself, taking aim from her great vantage point to help the others fighting off the small horde. "Mama! Help me! Shoot them!" she shrieked.

          Carol froze, her eyes following Ed as he limped away as quickly as he could, trailing blood and screaming like a girl. The wound in his leg, a fitting comeuppance for a fraction of the horror their daughter had suffered, gushed with each faltering step he made, ringing the dinner bell for the approaching geeks. He looked over his shoulder and tripped. They were on him in seconds. Ripping, tearing at his flesh, their rotted teeth sinking into him, causing his screams to increase in pitch and volume. His agony swelled and spilled out over the quarry in one long shriek of agony, and Carol couldn't muster up the slightest bit of sympathy for him. A monster destroyed by a monster. Each nip at his flesh was justice for one year of abuse at his hands, every tear into muscle and bone Karma's way of meting out his sentence. Hysterical laughter bubbled up inside her, but she managed to tamp it down and focus on her aim as she began to fire.

          Sophia winced as she watched three walkers descend upon her father. "Mama, should I shoot him, so he doesn't turn?"

          But Carol didn't answer. The cavalry had arrived, guns blazing and Daryl was in the lead … screaming her name.

 


	17. Chapter 17

 

          Bow strapped to his back, the shotgun in his hand hot, Daryl put down another geek as he fought his way towards the center of camp. He blamed himself. This was the consequence of leaving his girls unprotected. "Carol!" he yelled again. As if he could hear anything over the screams of terror, the shouts of unadulterated fear echoing through what had become his home.

          He couldn't let himself wonder if one of those screams were coming from his woman or the girl he was coming to care for as if she were his own. No … they were alive … they had to be. He couldn't lose them too.

          Rick was at his side screeching over the din for his family. T-Dog veered off at his right, taking down another walker. Glenn had run ahead in search of Amy. Daryl pushed past them all and continued to cut a path through the horde, eyes always searching for them, voice growing hoarse from his fevered cries. Had they called out to him and he'd just not heard amidst the chaos? Where could they be?

          "Get to the RV!" he heard Rick command as he and Shane herded Lori, Carl, Teresa and her children in that direction. An arrow whizzed by him, embedding itself in a walker silently inching closer, the shaft twitching as it founds its home.

          Daryl looked up and peered through the darkness in the direction from which it had come and felt hope take flight in his chest. Sophia stood atop the RV, tall and proud with her bow in hand. She looked like a little warrior princess defending her supplicants. And there was Carol crouched next to her, firing off round after round from the pistol in her hand. He stopped yelling for them and focused on the fight, ignoring the relief which wanted to send him to his knees.

          It felt like hours, though it was mere minutes before the last geek had been put down and he'd reached the Winnebago. Sophia was the first down the ladder, only one arrow remaining in her quiver. The girl threw herself at him, wrapping her arms and legs around him. It was then she allowed herself to cry.

          "You came back," she sobbed, wet tears falling against his neck to soak the collar of his shirt. "I was so scared, but I fought just like Merle taught me."

          Daryl wrapped his free arm around her and patted her back awkwardly. "S'ok, Soph." He propped the shotgun against the side of the RV, holding out his hand to Carol. He peeked at her from beneath his lashes, unsure if she'd take it. Didn't she realize he needed comforting just as much as she surely did?

          She surprised him, bypassing his hand completely to wrap her arms around both him and her daughter, burying herself in the crook of his neck Sophia wasn't occupying. "I was so worried about you," she whispered, her warm breath sending a pleasant shiver tripping up his spine.

          Lori clung to her own family where they stood nearby as Shane checked to see who was left after the tragedy. "I think we need a few hours to rest and regroup before we start dealing with this mess. I'll take first watch," he offered, reloading his shotgun.

          "Lemme get Carol an' Sophia settled an' I'll relieve y'," Daryl said, wincing when Sophia tightened her grip. Rick nodded to him in silent thanks, but Daryl just glared back coldly. Because of him, he had to go to his tent and explain to Sophia why Merle hadn't come home.

          Sophia kept her eyes closed as they slowly made their way up the hill, one comforting arm around her, the other about her mother. He didn't set her down until they'd reached the relative safety of their tent. She sat down next to Carol as Daryl zipped the flap shut.

          "Where's Merle?" she asked in a tiny whisper, more tears washing over her pale cheeks. "Is he …" She couldn't say the words. They couldn't make it past the lump of despair wedged in her throat.

          Daryl raked a hand through his hair, dropping down to his haunches before her. "No, Soph, he's not dead. He was gone, an' T was right … there was no way any walkers were gonna get t' him."

          "How could he just be gone?" Carol asked, rubbing soothing circles over Sophia's back.

          Daryl sighed. "Best I can figure, he used a screwdriver to break the chain on the cuffs. An' he's hurt. There was blood, but I couldn't tell how badly he was injured jus' from that. He stole the cube van, so I'm guessin' he's ok an' will find us when he's ready."

          Sophia sniffled. "But nobody's gonna want to stay here after … What if we leave and he can't find us?"

          Daryl's lips lifted minutely in the semblance of a smile. "Merle has a habit of findin' me no matter where I go, Soph. Might jus' take a while this time." He waved a hand at her bedroll. "Me an' your mama are gonna go sit outside for a bit an' talk. Why don't y' try to sleep?"

          Sophia bit her lip in an effort to staunch her tears. "Ok," she agreed, reaching up to hug him again. "I'm so glad you're back, Daryl."

          He nodded his head toward the tent flap as Carol moved to tuck Sophia into her bedroll. The girl placed her bow on one side and her knife on the other. For the first time, he noticed the blood smeared on the blade. He'd have to ask Carol about just what had happened while he'd been away.

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol dropped to sit next to him as he stoked the small fire he'd kindled before the tent. "Thought you might be thirsty," she murmured, holding out a bottle of water for him.

          "What happened while I was gone?" he asked, not sparing a glance her way as he took the bottle and drained it.

          The events of the last few hours were no laughing matter, but there was just something so comforting about the man beside her. He made her feel  _good._ A teasing smirk settled on her lips. "I missed you too, Daryl. I'm fine, by the way. It was so nice of you to ask."

          He lifted his chin and regarded her through his narrowed eyes. "Stop. Ain't got time for games."

          She leaned back against  _their_  log and sighed. "We're fine, Daryl."

          "I'll be th' judge o' that," he growled, rising up on his knees. His hands trembled as he reached for her, making quick work of the buttons of her shirt.

          "Daryl!"

          "Hush," he warned. "Y' should know by now I ain't gonna hurt y'."

          Be that as it may, his warm calloused fingers slowly undressing her was stirring feelings in her she didn't want to examine at the moment. His eyes roamed her slender form, raking over her almost studiously. "What are you doing?" she asked, her face tinting a lovely pink.

          "Checkin' for bites." His smoky gaze lingered on the finger marks marring her left bicep. "Who do I need t' kill?"

          Carol winced. So much for hiding the bruises from him. She should have known better. "No one," she said, pulling her shirt tail out of his grasp.

          He trailed his own fingers over the darkened skin. "Who did this t' you? If nothin' else, Shane needs a good beatin'. I warned him before I left for Atlanta."

          Carol rolled her eyes and pulled the button up back over her tank top. "He doesn't even know about it." She sighed wearily. "The kids were underfoot, and I asked him to take them swimming at the lake. I was with my friends cleaning the fish Andrea and Amy had caught, and Ed came over wanting to talk to me. You know Ed isn't one to keep his hands to himself when he's threatening someone."

          "And y' just let 'im?" he gaped. "After all you've been through?"

          "Of course, not," Carol scoffed. "I threatened to cut his balls off and told him to go away."

          "He listened?"

          "Well, I may have had my knife pressing into his groin at the time," she grinned. She sobered quickly. "He's dead, Daryl. I watched it happen."

          He looked down at the top of her silver head as she leaned into his shoulder. "Y' wanna talk about it?"

          He could feel the shudder pass through her and looked down to find her eyes closed. Carol pressed herself against his side, her hand coming to rest against his arm. "He tried to take her, Daryl. Ed waited until people were dying and screaming and …" She covered her ears as if she could block out the sound in her mind only to find it impossible.

          Daryl loosely took her hands and moved them back to her lap, his own covering them. He didn't push, letting her tell the tale in her own time.

          "He had his hands on my daughter … He was going to use her to make me go with him … Said he was glad the walkers had provided the perfect distraction. He wanted to use the death all around us to take us away. Oh, god, Daryl, what if he'd succeeded?" Panic rose as the full magnitude of his actions sank in, and a tear trekked its way down her face. She turned her head, unsurprised to see the dark glower on his handsome profile. "But Sophia … She was so brave. She wasn't about to give in. She reached for her knife, and before I could blink, she’d stabbed him in the leg."

          "Merle taught her well, it seems."

          Carol nodded enthusiastically. "When we find him, I'll have to remember to thank him."

          He subjected her to the full weight of his smile and her blush deepened. She was so confident they'd find his brother; it went a long way towards easing his anxiety. "How'd y'all end up on top of th' RV?"

          "As soon as Ed let Sophia go, she climbed up there. I was right behind her. Once we were safe, she didn't hesitate. She immediately started firing her arrows," she said, shaking her head, dumbfounded at how much her meek little daughter had blossomed into a fierce fighter.

          Daryl nudged her shoulder when she lost herself in her thoughts. "What 'bout you? I saw y' up there with both your guns out."

          "Yeah," Carol murmured, "but I didn't at first. I watched Ed limp away from the RV. He was hurt and couldn't climb up to us. I thought, surely, he'd try to hide inside, but instead he headed towards the hill. Maybe to go for the gun he kept in his tent? I don't know. But he had at least three walkers following the blood trail he left, and … Daryl, I watched him die," she finished, her voice no more than a whisper.

          "It's not your fault, and it ain't Sophia's neither. She was protectin' th' both of y'." He would not let her sit there and wallow in guilt. Not for a piece of shit like Ed Peletier.

          Carol turned her tortured gaze on him. "That's not it. Daryl, I didn't feel  _anything._ Not remorse or pity … Nothing."

          It reminded him of the absolute lack of emotion he'd experienced when his father had died, and he could empathize with her. The only feeling he'd been able to truly recognize was relief. "How d'you feel now?"

          "I'm free." A laugh bubbled from her lips. "Sophia and I are well and truly free."

          Daryl felt panic well up to choke him, and he didn't know how he was able to keep his features blank when the urge to lash out was so strong. She didn't need him anymore. She'd leave him, just like everyone else he'd ever cared for. He'd be alone. No Merle, no Carol, no family.

          And then the words forced themselves past his teeth in a strangled hiss of pain. "You don't need me anymore. Ed can't hurt y' again."

          Carol jerked her head to look at him, her lips parted on a startled gasp. "What are you talking about? Of course, I need you," she assured him. "What's gotten into you?"

          He shoved himself to his feet, pacing restlessly. "No y' don't! Ed's not a threat anymore, an' y' and Soph can take care o' yerselves jus' as well as I can. I-"

          Carol bounded to her feet, closing the distance between them and grabbing two handfuls of his sleeveless shirt in her fists. "Is that what you think? That I'll leave you?" She paused a moment, searching his eyes for the truth. He wasn't sure what she'd find there besides a lot of confusion. "For such a smart man, you sure can be stupid."

          Daryl gaped at her. "What?!"

          She let him go with a tiny shove and planted her hands stubbornly on her hips. "You're my best friend, Daryl Dixon. You're not just that … you're my savior, my confidante, my protector. You sought  _me_  out and made a place for yourself in my heart. You can't just cast me aside now because I'm stronger or because Ed's no longer a threat. I've never needed you because of what you do for me." Her voice shook with emotion despite its soft tone. "I need you just because you're  _you._ "

          He felt the bitter sting of tears behind his eyes, but he refused to let her see the torment of his soul. No one had ever said anything like that to him before, and he just didn't know how to respond. He couldn't let her see how much her words meant to him, couldn't open himself up and let her all the way in. Every time he'd done so in the past, he'd received nothing but scorn and pain and ridicule. Yet he knew for certain he couldn't live in a world without her.

          She wrapped her arms about herself and averted her gaze, staring down at the mud on her boots. "Do you  _want_  me to leave? Is that what this is about?" she asked brokenly.

          Once more, panic tore through his chest, the ache nearly stealing his breath, but he couldn't hide from her. He had to find the words to make her stay. "No … stay." He reached out and enveloped her cold hand in his much warmer one. "Don't want y' t' go, woman. I jus' don't want y' t' feel obligated t' stay, like y' got no choice."

          She gave the hand holding hers a gentle squeeze. "You  _are_ my choice."

          He nodded and chewed his lip, at a loss for what to do then. "Try t' get some sleep. I'm sure Rick an' Shane'll be up at th' butt crack o' dawn plannin' out our next move. I'ma go down for my watch."

          Carol raised a hand to his cheek, and he lost his breath at the tenderness of her touch. "Be safe."

          He watched her disappear through the tent flap, realizing he hadn't even bid her goodnight, too lost in the sweetness that was purely Carol. And she was his. What had started as a friendship, a common understanding and shared pain was slowly becoming something more. He felt it so strongly, and he wasn't so dense he couldn't tell she felt it too. He just needed to figure out if he was brave enough to watch it grow or too weak to let it blossom.

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol laid awake next to Sophia after he'd gone, unable to sleep. She doubted anyone in camp would be able to do much sleeping that night.  How could they after experiencing the trauma of the attack? She could still hear the screams, the ravenous moans of the dead as they sought to devour the living. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see Ed falling and hear him scream as the walkers ripped him apart. She could see the horde sweeping through their home like a plague of locusts, and the group fighting to fend them off.

          She shuddered, and Sophia whimpered softly next to her. Carol leaned over and kissed her cheek and brushed a soothing hand over her hair until Sophia settled down once more. She hoped her daughter's dreams weren't riddled with terror-filled visions of the undead. Sophia was still a child, no matter how fast the new world was forcing her to grow up, and Carol wanted her to at least find peace in slumber.

          Carol's mind wandered to Daryl as it usually did when she had a moment of quiet. She couldn't even begin to describe the relief she'd felt when she'd heard him calling her name across the quarry, or when her gaze had found him fighting his way through the chaos to reach them. To know he was safe, that he was there, and she wasn't alone … The knowledge had warmed her and filled her with hope to the very depths of her soul.

          His ready acceptance of Sophia and then her into his open arms had stunned her, well aware by now of how he reacted to displays of affection around the other members of their group. His guard had been lowered in what seemed almost desperation to assure himself of their safety. It was easy to recognize his reluctance to trust. She knew those feelings all too well because she shared them. Someone in his past had broken him, and there was no guarantee he'd ever recover, but she'd do her level best to help him. They could heal together if he were willing to take the chance.

          It had been like a knife to her heart when he'd told her she didn't need him anymore. How could he ever think that with as close as they'd grown to one another. She'd never willingly leave him. It would be easier to cut out her own heart. No, she thought obstinately, he was stuck with her. Carol was almost one hundred percent certain he needed her just as much as she did him.

          She rolled over onto her side, facing Sophia's back, still unable to sleep despite the bone deep exhaustion she felt. Her mind replayed Daryl's frantic urgency as he'd removed her shirt earlier, the fear on his face as he searched for bites and then the rage at the bruises left on her pale skin. His touch had been almost clinical, his search thorough, but the feel of his fingers ghosting over her flesh had left her breathless. When was the last time a man's touch had left heat and desire coursing like fire through her veins? Not even during Ed's courtship had she felt anything remotely similar. That should have been a warning now that she thought of it.

          With the abuse she'd been dealt, she'd expected to recoil from such an intimate touch. But as his work-roughened hands had moved gently over her arms, her shoulders, and neck, she'd found herself wanting more …  _so much more_. What would it be like to kiss him, she wondered. To have his thin lips come together with hers, brushing softly, teasing her senses, his tongue darting out to taste her?

          She gasped, her eyes flying open as she felt wetness pool between her thighs.  _Holy shit! When's the last time thinking of a man had done that!?_  Oh, she'd find herself in big trouble if she allowed her thoughts to continue along that path. Especially when she was certain he didn't feel that way about her. She stifled the groan hiding just behind her lips as the sound of a zipper penetrated the silence.

          Carol held still, her fingers curling around the gun hidden beneath her pillow. She relaxed when she caught a whiff of his familiar scent as he sat down on his bedroll and removed his belt and then his boots. Only when he stretched out beside her did she allow the tension to ease from her body.

          "Cain't sleep?" he asked, staring up at the domed ceiling.

          "How'd you know I wasn't?" She knew there was no reason to lie to him. His hunter's instincts were too sharp.

          "'Cause y' stopped breathin' an' grabbed for your gun th' second I came in," he scoffed.

          Carol smirked into her pillow. She could tell from his tone he was smiling, no doubt pleased with himself for having taught her to be so cautious. "I suppose I'm still on edge."

          "Y' need t' sleep, woman," he yawned. "Ain't gonna do y' no good t' sit up worryin' all damn night."

          "I thought you were on watch."

          The fabric of his sleeping bag rustled as he shrugged. "I don't think th' others can sleep neither. We've been switchin' out every two hours, two on guard at a time. One on top the RV an' one walkin' the perimeter."

          Carol sighed. "We should have been doing it that way from the beginning, then maybe …"

          He turned over and she could feel his eyes boring into her back. "Stop. I'm not gonna let y' beat yerself up for shit y' ain't got no control over. We all made mistakes. Shane don't know nothin' when it comes t' security, even if he was a cop. S'why me an' Merle always took turns watchin' over our own campsite."

          Carol sniffled discreetly, once more feeling the burn of unshed tears. "How many did we lose?"

          "Carol …" he breathed, hating this need she had to torture herself.

          "Please, Daryl," she pleaded with him. "I don't want to go down there in the morning and find out. I need time to deal with it now, so I might be able to help others."

          He gnashed his teeth, angry with her logic, but helpless to do anything but give her the names she sought. "Th' Garcias, th' Powells … includin' their little boy … that group o' jocks from Georgia State who kept t' themselves, Ed," he spat that last name as if it were something putrid in his mouth. "Kortney an' Brittany …"

          Carol let the tears fall. She hadn't known them very well, but they'd all been decent people. Kortney and Brittany had just gotten married out of state before the outbreak, and now they wouldn't see their first wedding anniversary. She didn't like how Daryl's voice had trailed away, and she knew the next name would be the one to break her. "W-Who else?" she whispered, bracing herself.

          "Woman -"

          She cut him off, angry and afraid. "Tell me."

          "Amy."

          "What!? No!" she choked out, sitting up and pushing the thin blanket off her legs. "Andrea …"

          His eyes flashed at her in the darkness and she could see the panic there lurking in their depths. "Where th' hell d'you think you're goin'?" he asked, his fingers wrapping around her upper arms to prevent her from rising.

          "I need to go to her, Daryl. Please … Let me go," she begged.

          Daryl could feel her pain. Not for the friend she'd lost or for the grieving sister. He'd barely known Amy, and Andrea was a pain in the ass. It was because his woman was hurting. "Dale an' Jacqui are with 'er. She's not alone, Carol. Y' need t' be here in case Sophia wakes up."

          Only the mention of her daughter could have kept her at his side. Tears poured from her bottomless blue eyes as he pulled her back down to lie beside him. She felt him tense slightly as she pressed herself closer and laid her head against his chest, but she didn't care. She needed the comfort of his arms, his reassuring presence while she mourned the loss of her friend.

 


	18. Chapter 18

 

          Daryl was still awake when the first streaks of pink lightened the sky and the first trill of birdsong split the air. He was so exhausted, but he couldn't bring himself to sleep. He'd dozed on and off, only to jerk awake at the slightest sound. Sophia was restless, and though she never woke, she tossed and turned throughout the night. Carol, on the other hand, had wept until she'd fallen into a state of unconsciousness. He could only figure the stress of the attack and the loss of so many in their group had finally caught up with her.

          Daryl's innate desire to protect his girls had kept him in a fitful state. He couldn't go to sleep with no one on guard. He didn't trust those yahoos, their self-appointed leaders. He missed his brother. They had a system for protecting one another, a routine they stuck to in order to guard what little they had. It just didn't work without Merle. Now after Rick and the others had so readily abandoned the eldest Dixon in Atlanta, he wasn't even sure he wanted to remain a part of the group. He thought perhaps he and Carol could take Sophia and go off on their own.

          But the longer he thought about it, the more he wanted to discard that plan. Carol had made friends among the women, and it would be selfish of him to take her away from them. She needed the companionship they offered, having had to do without it during the years she'd lived with Ed. And how could he possibly separate Sophia from Carl. She'd already lost Merle … at least for the time being. He didn't doubt Merle would show up the moment he least expected it. He just couldn't do it. He'd just have to suck it up and play nice. He groaned, his arms tightening around the woman in his arms. He'd do it for them, no matter how much he just wanted to run.

          Daryl's fingers kneaded the knot of tension at her nape as she gave that little gasp he was becoming familiar with which signaled her waking. She moved to sit up, but he held her in place. "It's still early," he whispered.

          Carol yawned and relaxed back into his embrace, turning her face up to look at him. Her eyes widened as she took in his haggard appearance. "Oh, Daryl … you look awful. Didn't you sleep at all?"

          He could just imagine the dark circles beneath his eyes and the lines of fatigue around his mouth, not to mention he needed a bath in the worst way after fighting geeks last night. "Naw, couldn't sleep. Guess I had too much on my mind."

          Carol stretched like a kitten and shook off his embrace with a wry smile. "Sorry I cried all over you last night, but thank you … for being there for me."

          Daryl sat up beside her and ducked his head, chewing anxiously at his thumbnail. He knew that look, their conversation having the potential to get deep. It was far too early to drag out his feelings to examine them.  "S'nothin'," he waved her off, reaching for his boots. "C'mon, we need t' see what's goin' on this mornin'. Somethin's gonna have to be done with the bodies." Some good hard physical labor would hopefully distract him from having to think about Merle or his confusing feelings towards Carol and how he'd reacted when he couldn't find her last night.

          Carol reached for her own boots. "Should I wake Sophia?"

          "Naw, let 'er sleep. She tossed and turned all night. Let her wake on her own." He picked up his bow and slipped out of the tent into the humid morning air to wait for her.

 

*.*.*

 

          Lori lifted a hand in greeting as Carol walked down the hill, Daryl at her side. The deputy's wife looked just as haggard as the rest of them where she sat beside the communal fire stirring a pot of oatmeal. Carol returned the gesture and nodded at Rick and Shane as they came over to talk to Daryl. Another fire had been started some distance away which they were using to dispose of the bodies of the walkers. Their own would be buried in the graves Jim had dug the day before during his meltdown. They'd all worried about the man as he'd talked about the prophetic dream he'd had which had propelled him into madness. Who would have thought it would come true?

          Daryl looked dubiously down at the bowl Lori handed him, but began to eat anyway. He'd need to rebuild his flagging strength for what the day would bring. He frowned as Carol declined Lori's offering. "Make sure she eats," he said to the brunette before he chose a pickaxe to begin helping the others. He left with a short warning to Carol not to wander off. After what had happened yesterday, he didn't want her far from his sight.

          She nodded, her eyes coming to settle on Andrea's still vigil over her sister's prone form. "She been there all night?"

          Shane gave her a tired look. "Yeah, won't talk to us, and won't leave Amy's side."

          "She can't stay like that," Rick said. "We all know she's gonna turn. It needs to be dealt with."

          Carol glared at him coldly as she rose to her feet. "You're going to win tons of friends with that attitude, Rick Grimes."

          A muscle twitched in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. "I'm not trying to win friends, Carol. I'm trying to protect this group from another threat," he hissed.

          Carol kept her anger in check, knowing if their argument were overheard, Daryl would come running, and he didn't need another excuse to hate the man. "I understand your concern, but your lack of tact is neither wanted nor appreciated. Andrea just lost her sister … her family. Dig deep and find a little sensitivity."

          Both he and Shane looked down guiltily as she walked away to comfort her friend.

          Carol walked the short distance to the Winnebago and dropped to her knees beside Andrea, tears misting her eyes as she stared down at Amy's bloody corpse. She drew her friend into her arms and held her tightly. "I'm so sorry," she choked out for want of anything better to say.

          Andrea rested her head against Carol's shoulder and let herself go. Jacqui and Lori had both come to offer their condolences earlier and she'd been able to hold her emotions in check. But this was Carol. Carol who openly showed her love for everyone, especially her friends. She was no match for that kind of tenderness, the dam of emotion lodged inside her breaking free.

          Carol stroked a hand over Andrea's platinum locks, cooing softly. "That's it, honey, let it out." She could feel her friend's pain and it broke her heart. Her own tears fell freely. "I loved her too."

          "H-How am I supposed to do this without her?" the blonde wept.

          Carol leaned back and met Andrea's tearful gaze, her hands resting on her shoulders. "Because she wouldn't want you to give up. Amy would want you to be strong and survive, to do what you can to go on. Whether you believe it or not, we need you."

          Andrea tucked her head beneath Carol's chin and stared lovingly down at her sister. "How can I just let her go? Both Lori  _and_ Shane have come over here trying to take her from me," she said bitterly. "I c-can't just let him … "

          "I know," Carol replied sympathetically. "They are just worried … about when she turns."

          Andrea straightened her shoulders and swiped angrily at her tears. "It has to be me, Carol. I have to have time to say goodbye, but I won't let her be put down by one of them."

          Carol understood all too well her friend's desire. Amy deserved to have it done by someone who'd loved her. Who better than the sister who'd cherished her? "I'll talk to them … make them understand."

          She gave Andrea's shoulder a final squeeze and left her to mourn in peace. Rick was waiting when she returned to the fire. "Well … Is she going to let us take her? I promise, Carol, we'll be as gentle as possible."

          Carol laid her hand on his arm. "Leave her be, Rick. This is something she needs to do herself." When he opened his mouth to protest, she cut him off. "If this is how she finds closure, you have to let her. What if it were Lori? Or Carl? Wouldn't you want to be the one to finish it and lay them to rest?"

          It finally all clicked into place for him and he nodded sadly. Dale, having heard their exchange, promised to stick close and help her should she need him. Carol sat back next to Lori, intending to discuss what they could do to help, yet before she could open her mouth, Jacqui came running over to inform them Jim had been bitten in the attack.

          "What?" Lori gasped.

          "No!" Carol said, her gaze quickly searching out the man as the men surrounded him. T-Dog was forced to restrain him as panic had him ready to flee. "He hid it from us?"

          "Look how they're acting. It's no wonder," Jacqui retorted.

          Carol hurried over to Daryl's side as they all began to argue. He was all for putting him down, long before the man could succumb to the fever spreading through him. "Daryl -"

          He cut her off. "Go back t' th' tent woman," he ordered, chewing the inside of his lip.

          She bristled. "Why? Because you say so?"

          He shot her a look of disgust. "No! I don't want Sophia wakin' up an' comin' down here t' see this, an' I sure as hell don't want her anywhere near Jim."

          Rick kept arguing with Shane about where they should go when they left the quarry. "I heard the CDC was workin' on a cure. Maybe we could take Jim there, get him the help he needs."

          "Nah," Shane protested. "Fort Benning would be our best bet. They'll have food, medicine, guns. We'll be protected there."

          "And what if he turns before we get there? Benning's a hundred miles in th' other direction," Daryl growled. "Y' think I'ma let Carol or Sophia anywhere near him, much less ride in th' same vehicle with 'im?" He hefted the pickaxe in a sure grip and stalked towards the infected man. "If y'all ain't got th' balls t' do what needs t' be done, I do!"

          The hammer cocking on Rick's colt had him pausing just in time. "We do  _not_ kill the living."

          "That's funny, comin' from the man pointin' a gun at my head," the redneck drawled acerbically.

          "He's right, man. Put it down," Shane said, putting himself between Daryl and Jim.

          Daryl dropped it, berating his aim when it missed Shane's foot by a mere inch. "This your way of keepin' the group safe, Rick?" He flipped him a rude gesture. "Epic fail, asshole!" He went to the campfire where he'd left Sophia's arrows he'd retrieved and strode off angrily into the woods to sit down and clean them.

          Carol glared at the former deputy, the fires of hell burning in her eyes. She pointed a finger in the very center of his chest, causing him to flinch. "Don't  _ever_ point a gun at him again. He lends his protection and his skill to provide for this group. In spite of what y'all did to Merle, he chose to stay. He's an asset to this outfit, and you treat him like a criminal." She was somewhat mollified to see both Rick  _and_ Shane flushing in shame. "You think about that next time you threaten him and believe me when I say this is the only warning you're going to get."

          Lori gaped as she watched Carol walk back up the hill to check on Sophia. Rick's mouth was hanging open as he stood next to his wife. "Did she -"

          "Just threaten us?" Shane finished for him. "Yeah, and I think she meant it."

          Dale shook his head. "She meant it all right," he said, his gaze following the woman in question up the hill.

          Shane squinted against the sun. "All I know … She ain't the woman we met two months ago who hardly spoke at all, much less to threaten anyone."

          "That Carol was under Ed Peletier's thumb," Jacqui explained, a small smirk at the corner of her mouth. "That woman right there is pure Dixon." She eyed the former deputies with amusement. "Better watch yourselves, honey."

 

*.*.*

 

          With Dale's permission, Rick set Jim up in the RV with Jacqui to watch over him. It had finally been decided they would travel to the CDC to see if the doctors there were indeed working on a cure. Daryl thought they were all delusional, especially Rick. He was trying so hard to stick to his strong moral code, to be democratic and fair. What they needed was a strong leader, and from what Daryl could see at this point … Rick wasn't it. He needed to step up his game quick fast and in a hurry.

          The redneck leaned once more on the pickaxe as he wiped sweat from his brow. He was done with the walkers, the fire crackling brightly as they burned. He and Glenn, along with Hector Morales were now dealing with those of their group who'd perished. Ed was one of the few left. He scowled at Carol as she brought him some of the lunch she'd been passing out to whoever had the stomach for it.

          She traded two biscuits stuffed with spam for the pickaxe. "Feeling a bit better now?"

          He nodded. It had done him good to retreat to the forest for a while and had helped greatly to clear his head. "When'd y' have time t' make biscuits?" he mumbled, his mouth full. Gawd, the woman could make the fluffiest biscuits he'd ever tasted. His palate was ruined for any food other than hers.

          She grinned disarmingly up at him. "Sophia and I had plenty of time while you were being a jackass to everyone. We also have everything loaded in the back of the truck. Only the tent needs to come down."

          He snorted at her quip. "Y' did all that an' still had time t' bake?"

          "I'm a multitasker at heart, I guess."

          Carol's smile slowly faded from her face as she looked down at the bodies of Manny Garcia and Ed. Her ex-husband should've been burned with the walkers, but she knew Daryl wouldn't do it out of regard for Sophia. Ed should be nowhere near a man as fine as Manny, even in death.

          "Carol? Y' ok?" Somehow Daryl's voice penetrated the fog which had clouded her thoughts.

          "Yeah." She looked down at the hand he held out to her and tightened her grip on the pickaxe. "Should be me … don't you think? To be the one to end him?"

          Daryl didn't like the expression on her lovely face. In fact, it worried him. It reminded him of when he'd first met her, and she’d worn her fear and anxiety like a cloak. Would this give her the closure she needed? Because he never wanted to see such pain in her eyes again. "Y' sure?"

          She turned those big blue eyes up at him, steely determination lurking in their depths. He couldn't deny her, hoping the act would bring her some peace. He nodded and stepped back to finish his lunch along with the bottle of water she'd brought him.

          For a moment, she faltered, and he thought the tool would be too heavy for her. Like everything before, she surprised him. With a strength borne of deep-seated rage, she brought it down on Ed Peletier's temple.

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol flinched as the heavy blade connected with flesh and bone. How many times had she heard similar sounds within her own body as he’d beat her with his meaty fists? She jerked it free with a squelch and lifted it again.

          Broken ribs … the sound of a wire coat hanger tearing through the tender flesh of her back … a shove to send her spiraling down the stairs … his heavy boots taking over when his knuckles were too bloody to continue … the way he'd leered lustfully at Sophia … every time he’d forced himself upon her …

          "Jesus, woman!" Daryl cursed, yanking the tool from her hands and tossing it aside.

          Tears fell unabashed from her lashes as he pulled her roughly into his arms, a broken sob rising up in her throat. "He's dead, Carol. There ain't nothin' left o' him t' hurt y'." Daryl glanced down at what had once been the man's head. Now it was simply gone, a mess of blood, bone and brain matter, but nothing resembling the man he'd once been.

          Carol wrapped her arms about his waist, clinging to him for support. She was free; the monster dead. She cried for the abuse, the pain, the suffering, letting it pour out and wash away with her tears. There wasn't even a remote chance he could slip past her defenses and get to her again. He couldn't hurt her anymore, and from that moment forward she vowed she would start living.

 

*.*.*

 

          It was well into the afternoon before the last of the mourners trickled down from the hilltop graveyard. Sophia had stood next to her father's grave, her arms crossed over her flat chest, and a mulish expression on her usually sweet features. She'd shed tears for some of the others who'd been buried that day, especially Amy, but she'd had no sadness, no tears, no nothing for the man who'd sired her. No one had had any kind words to say over Ed's body … Not even Dale, who always had a kind word for everyone.

          Daryl couldn't stop his lip from curling in disgust as he stared down into the hole, at the bloody sheet covering Ed's mangled corpse. As gruesome as his death had been, it was better than what he'd deserved. There was no amount of suffering on Earth to make up for what that man had put Carol through. Sophia adamantly shook her head when Glenn offered her the shovel to toss the first handful of dirt into the grave. Instead she grasped her mother's hand, her dry crystal blue eyes pleading for her to take her back to camp, to leave with her, to be away from the death and sorrow and loss.

          When Carol didn't move, Daryl nudged her with his shoulder. "G'on, woman. Take Soph down t' th' lake t' wash up. Don't know what's waitin' for us at th' CDC. No tellin' when you'll have a chance t' get clean again."

          Carol lifted her chin and offered him a faint smile. It was another thing she loved about her dearest friend, his need to always think of her comfort. "When you're done here, join us at the pool. I'll bring fresh clothes and your kit down with us."

          Now as he sat behind the wheel of his truck, he was glad he'd heeded her advice and made the effort to clean himself up. It was nice not to have to travel with his skin itching from the dirt and sweat he'd been covered in.

          Sophia sat next to him, Carol on her other side. Her bow and quiver rested between her legs. She'd balked when Daryl had offered to put them behind the seat with his crossbow. Merle had warned her to always have her weapon near to hand, and she took his words to heart. She missed Merle terribly, as much as if not more than Daryl himself did. Rick had left a message taped to the door of the abandoned challenger for his friend – the man who had saved him - to join them at the CDC. Sophia had added her own message for Merle should he come back looking for them.

          He gnawed distractedly on his thumb, the digit already a mangled mess of chewed skin, the nail having been bitten down to the quick. The closer they came to Atlanta, the more nervous he became. What if he couldn’t keep his girls safe? He hadn't been there for Merle, and now his brother was missing. He would probably blame himself until the eldest Dixon was found. Daryl had always had a bad habit of blaming himself for shit that wasn't his fault.

          They were on the very outskirts of Atlanta, suburbs surrounding the highway they traveled, when Dale pulled the RV to a screeching halt. Rick swerved the Cherokee to the right to avoid a rear end collision. Daryl pulled to a stop behind him and turned to Carol, commanding her to remain in the truck. "And that goes for you too, missy," he growled at Sophia. He didn't miss the roll of her eyes, but she stayed put.

          Dale was gesticulating wildly at Rick by the time Daryl reached them, crossbow resting in his hand at the ready. "Th' fuck's goin' on? Why we stopped?"

          Dale turned fearful dark eyes on the hunter. T-Dog and Shane came to stand with them, equally curious as to the unexpected stop. "Jim's dead," Dale said, wringing his worn white hat in his trembling hands. "We need to get him out of the Winnebago before he turns."

          Daryl gaped at him in horror. "Y' didn't put 'im down? The fuck's wrong with you people?" he growled in disgust as he stormed up the steps into the vehicle. Jacqui stood by the door into the single bedroom, weeping softly as she watched Jim for signs of movement. The poor woman looked as if she were about to break.

          He looked over at her and Andrea, schooling his face into a blank mask. "Out. All o' ya." Glenn obeyed, more than familiar with Daryl's temper. He didn't want to make it worse, nor was he prepared to take over the task Daryl had appointed for himself.

          The archer slipped into the room and checked the man's pulse, first at his wrist, then at his neck. He wasn't about to lay an ear to his chest to listen. All he needed was for Jim's corpse to reanimate and take a bite out of him. He sighed and drew the knife from his belt. "Sorry, man," he said before driving the blade into his temple. At least he'd be spared from becoming one of the mindless wandering dead.

          It didn't make Daryl feel any better to know that, however. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. If Rick would have let him put Jim down at camp, the man wouldn't have had to suffer through the fever and a long painful death. It would've been a mercy killing, not the cold-blooded murder Rick and Shane had made it out to be.

          He made his way back outside and handed Shane the shovel he'd grabbed on the way out. "I told y' this shit was useless. He was never gonna make it an' he had t' suffer needlessly," he snarled, backing Rick against the side of the RV. He pointed a finger in their leader's face. "What woulda happened if he'd turned an' attacked one o' th' women before Dale coulda got th' RV stopped, Rick?" he sneered. "That shit woulda been on you."

          Rick paled and watched him take the pick from the back of the truck and go off to help Shane dig a grave. Jacqui and Andrea cast him furtive looks as they went back inside to prepare the body for burial. He was going to have to get his act together if he was going to lead the group. It was his job to keep them alive and he was doing a less than stellar job. The CDC held the answers - he was sure of it - he just needed to get them there.

 


	19. Chapter 19

 

          Sophia leaned over and rested her head against her mother's shoulder. She was dry-eyed, not having known Jim other than just another face in their group, but from what she'd seen, he'd been a nice man. Death was never easy, and no one deserved the fate of becoming one of those things.

          Daryl's fingers were gripping the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles were white. "Y' ok?" he asked quietly as the caravan got on the road once more. They still had about another hour before they reached the CDC, barring any major pile ups left from the beginning of the outbreak and the following bombing of Atlanta. He winced as she shot him a pained smile. He'd been asking that question a lot lately. "M'sorry."

          Carol stroked a gentle hand over her daughter's soft hair. "I'll be ok. We all will in our own way. Just can't give up, right?"

          Daryl nodded, pleased with her attitude. It made him swell with pride to see how strong she was becoming. They rode in silence, lost in their own thoughts, Daryl still angry with Rick for bringing Jim along and putting everyone in danger, and Carol worried about what they'd find at the CDC. Her mind could never have imagined the nightmare which awaited them.

          Daryl slowly pulled the truck to a stop behind Shane's jeep, chewing the inside of his lip to keep the horror he felt from showing on his face. He couldn't let Carol or Sophia think he was less than calm. The rest of the group filed out of their vehicles, and he opened the door, reaching in for his crossbow.

          "Soph, keep your bow handy," he ordered. "Carol …" He didn't need to say more, her gun already in hand. "Put your jackets on, just in case." He doubted the walkers would be able to bite through the heavy fabric; one of the reasons he'd chosen them for his girls. "Stay close t' me, y' hear?"

          He could see the fear and desolation on everyone's faces as they all began to move forward. The stench of rotting corpses was unbearable. He'd never seen anything more horrible in his life, and having a brother like Merle? Yeah, he'd seen his share of horrible shit. It looked as if the military had formed a blockade at the front of the building, but they'd been no match for an army of the undead. The bodies of civilians and military alike littered the ground, and they were forced to pick their way carefully through the carnage.

          Carol covered her mouth with her free hand to ward off flies as well as the smell. It was all she could do not to reach out and pull Sophia close to her.

          Rick looked back at the others as he took point. "Keep moving and stay together," he commanded, his rifle held at the ready.

          Shane covered him, trying to be strong for his friend and encouraging towards the group. "C'mon, people, we're almost there."

          Daryl scowled at them both, but never lowered his weapon. "This was a mistake," he murmured lowly to Carol. "Th' place is deserted."

          Rick banged on the shuttered door as they finally reached what had once been the entrance. He looked as if someone had just kicked him in his teeth. Shane tried to pull him away. "It's a dead end, man. C'mon, we gotta go."

          Daryl's temper exploded. "Walkers!" he yelled, firing on a soldier who'd probably succumbed trying to defend his post. All around him, the group began to lament on what to do. He was furious. "Y' led us into a goddamned graveyard!"

          Shane whirled on him. "He made a call!"

          "It was th' wrong damn call an' now we're all screwed," he growled, not backing down an inch.

          Carol laid a hand on his arm. "This isn't helping," she hissed quietly. It was taking all her strength to keep from falling apart, inwardly panicking but calm on the outside.

          He shook her off and let his gaze sweep the courtyard for other dangers, trying to bring himself in check.

          Shane once again tried to pull Rick away from the door, but he was having none of it. "Rick, man, we can't stay here!"

          "Someone needs to make a decision," Carol said, tired of all the bickering. If Rick was going to have a nervous breakdown, he needed to do it on his own time and not when all their lives were at stake.

          Lori hugged Carl close. "She's right. We can't be this close to the city after dark."

          Sophia went to Daryl and pressed herself back to back with him, an arrow nocked in her bow. "What're we gonna do?" she whispered, surprised he could hear her over Andrea and Glenn arguing with Shane about how they were supposed to reach Fort Benning without resources.

          "I dunno, kid. We're on a sinkin' ship an' th' captain's been drinkin' th' petrol," he snarked.

          "The camera … it moved! Someone's in there!"

          Daryl shook his head as Rick went off on another tangent. "See what I mean," Daryl scoffed. He couldn't have been more stunned when a moment later they were blinded by security lights as the door rumbled open.

 

*.*.*

 

          "Are any of you infected?"

          Daryl didn't so much hear what else the man had to say. He was more focused on the semi-automatic rifle he held up before him.

          Sophia peeked out from behind the hunter, a bolt aimed at the man's head. "How ‘bout you let us in and we can talk about it?" She regarded him steadily through a narrow-eyed gaze and didn't lower her weapon until Daryl put a hand to her arm and shook his head. She raised her chin obstinately. "He looks kinda shifty, Daryl."

          Carol covered her daughter's mouth with her hand. "Sophia!"

          The girl shrugged. She didn't know what kind of stand the man expected to make when he was outmanned and facing a heavily armed group such as theirs. He looked jittery and harmless, despite the weapon he held in his trembling hands.

          He actually smiled at her. "You their leader?"

          Sophia rolled her eyes as Rick stepped forward with a hesitant smile. "No, that would be me."

          Daryl had to force himself not to roll his own eyes as the man asked, "What do you want?"

          "A chance," Rick answered, his eyes pleading with the man to take them in.

          Daryl ignored the exchange, his gaze taking in the lobby to make sure the exits were sealed now that the shutters had been opened. Carol remained at his side and lowered her weapon, though she didn't holster it. He shifted slightly in front of her and Sophia should their host change his mind and open fire.

          "You'll all have to submit to a blood test. That's the cost of admission," he offered. "You got stuff to bring in, you do it now."

 

*.*.*

 

          "I'd almost forgotten what it was like to cook in a real kitchen," Lori said as she sat at a stainless-steel work table peeling potatoes.

          Carol sent a faint smile her way. The elevator down into the bowels of the earth, which made up the hive of workspace, laboratories and sleeping quarters for the CDC's staff, had been torture. It almost made that day on the ladder at Marty's seem like a walk in the park. She couldn't relax knowing how far underground they were. It was as if the walls were slowly closing in on her. And what had Doctor Jenner meant when he'd warned once the doors were sealed, they wouldn't open again? Were they well and truly trapped? She fought to steady her breathing and concentrated on the ham steaks she was grilling on the flat top range. If she let her panic overwhelm her, she doubted even Daryl's meditation techniques would be enough to talk her down.

          Carol still didn't know what to think of Edwin Jenner. Sophia wasn't far off when she'd called him shifty. She didn't trust him. She knew Daryl didn't trust him because her fierce protector didn't trust anyone. He was hiding something, and it left her uneasy. It had startled everyone to find out he was alone there, the only scientist to have stayed to continue working. She wondered if perhaps he'd gone a little mad from no contact with another human being for so long. A little insanity could possibly be what was giving her such bad vibes.

          "Carol? Hey, you ok over there?" Lori asked with concern.

          She shook off her fugue and added another steak to the grill. "Mhmm … Just thinking. Why d'you suppose Jenner demanded blood tests from us all? Kinda strange."

          Lori brought the potatoes to the sink for a quick wash before she added them to the pan. It only took her a moment to add salt, pepper and dried dill weed to the diced spuds and put them in the oven. "Considering he let us in, I'd have given him a kidney if he'd asked."

          Carol laughed and started on the canned green beans she'd found in the pantry. "Lori!" Her brow furrowed again. "Seriously though, what's he going to do with all those blood samples? If we're not infected with the virus, it's not going to do him any good to start testing."

          "I think he's just being cautious," the brunette said as she popped a handful of cheezits. "Who cares? We have food, hot showers and actual beds to sleep in, without having to worry about walkers."

          Carol was just taking several loaves of bread from the top of the double oven when Daryl came into the kitchen and groaned. "Shoulda known you'd be in here, woman. Gawd! Smells so good. When's dinner?"

          She moved the loaves to a cooling rack and shared a smile with him. "Don't you want to know what we're having?"

          He reached into the box Lori held out to him and took a handful of the cheesy little squares of goodness for himself. "Nope, don't care. Don't matter whatcha cook; s'always good."

          Carol beamed at the praise, her cheeks tinting. "Um … Where are the children? I thought you were watching them."

          Lori quickly got up from her stool, ready to rush off to find them, but Daryl waved off her worry. "They're fine. After their showers, I left 'em in th' game room th' doc mentioned. Y' don't wanna go in there unless you're prepared t' join their board game marathon. Least I talked 'em outta target practice."

          Carol arched a brow at his unrepentant smirk as Lori paled. "No, I don't suppose Dr. Jenner would appreciate holes in his walls," she snarked back at him. "Did you find us somewhere to sleep?"

          "Yeah … I'll show y' after dinner," he mumbled around another mouthful of cheezits. "Soph has th' room next t' ours. Carl said he was gonna ask if he could bunk with 'er, make sure it's a'right with you," he said to Lori.

          "I guess. They should be ok. Our room is two doors down, so they'll be between us."

          Carol swatted him with a dish towel. "Stop nibbling. You'll ruin your dinner."

          "Never." But he left the kitchen regardless.

          Lori raised her brows high in surprise. "He seems awfully cheerful. Anything you want to share, oh friend of mine?"

          "I'm just as surprised as you are," Carol murmured, staring at the doorway where he'd disappeared. "Maybe it's just the thought of a good meal and a warm bed."

          "Can't tell with that one," Lori shook her head.

          Carol gave the pot of green beans a stir. She didn't want to discuss her burgeoning friendship with Daryl. It was like a gift on Christmas morning, one she wanted to keep a secret for as long as possible before she shared it with anyone. "So how are things with that husband of yours since he returned from the dead?" she asked, changing the subject.

          Lori fidgeted nervously with the paring knife she'd used on the potatoes and shot a searching glance towards the closed door. "It's … uh …"

          Carol turned the beans down to a simmer and went to sit next to her friend. Everything had happened so quickly after Rick's return to camp, what with them running off to Atlanta to try to rescue Merle, and then coming back to camp to find them under attack, she and Lori hadn't had any time for girl talk. "It had to have been a shock to find out he was alive, but you  _are_ happy, right?"

          "Oh, god, Carol … It's such a mess," the brunette moaned, burying her face in her hands. "Things hadn't been good for a while before the outbreak, and then he was shot."

          Carol nodded, remembering Lori's story of Rick's accident.

          "When Shane told me he was dead, I felt so guilty. Maybe if I hadn't been so angry with him that morning, it wouldn't have happened. I think this was God's way of punishing me, of making me see not to take Rick for granted."

          "Lori, you can't think that way."

          Lori's eyes misted with tears. She looked absolutely miserable. "I really thought he was dead. I mean … Shane's his partner, his best friend … those two are like brothers. Why wouldn't I believe him when he told me Rick was gone?"

          Carol reached across the space between them and took Lori's trembling hands in her own. "And Shane? You care for him?"

          Lori huffed out an exasperated sigh. "I'm really angry at him. He lied to me."

          "But he saved you, Lori," Carol pointed out. "He saved you  _and_  Carl. He got you to safety, looked after you, cares for you …  _both_ of you." She thought of the feelings Daryl stirred within her. "That type of experience creates a bond."

          "Like you have with Daryl?" Lori asked.

          Carol smiled. "He's my best friend, Lori. I never had that before. What I'm trying to say, is I understand how you could care for Shane. Despite what he did, what he told you, he  _does_  care for you. And I know you care for him too."

          Lori groaned. "That's the problem. Rick is my husband. He went through hell to get back to me, and it's my duty to try to make our marriage work."

          Carol tilted her head to the side and took in the mixed emotions on her friend’s tired face. "Duty and obligation? That's not all there is to marriage. Trust me, I'm an old hand at reasons not to stay in a marriage. What does your heart say?"

          Lori pulled her hands from Carol's gentle grasp and scrubbed them wearily over her face. "I don't know."

          Carol rose from her stool to begin collecting dishes and flatware to set the table. "Listen to it, Lori. The heart doesn't lie. Then you'll know and be able to make a choice."

          "I just don't want anyone to be hurt."

          Carol hummed thoughtfully. "Either way, one of them will be hurt, but if you choose wrong,  _you'll_  be hurt. You're the one who will have to live with your choice, Lori. Just make sure it's the right one."

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol whacked Shane's knuckles with a wooden spoon as he reached for one of the loaves of bread she'd just set on the table. "Ack! Not until everyone gets here," she admonished.

          He rubbed the reddening marks with a grin. "Yes, ma'am. You remind me of my granny. Never had the patience to wait on her food either."

          "'Cause it's th' best, right, Soph?" Daryl winked at her and set another bottle of red wine on the table.

          There was a good bit of mumbling and groaning going on around the table, and Carol knew she wouldn't be able to hold them off much longer. Finally, Dale and Andrea ambled in, looking fresh out of the shower. Andrea's platinum locks were still damp, and her nose was red. She wasn't surprised her friend had been crying.

          Carol wrapped her arms around the blonde and gave her a hug. "How are you coping?" she asked, waving the others ahead to start without them.

          "I'm okay," Andrea replied, folding her arms across her chest. "It's just so hard to be here, knowing we're safe, when Amy's lying in the cold ground."

          Carol grimaced. "C'mon … Try to eat something. I even made dessert." She was pleased with herself as Andrea cast her a small smile.

          "Woman!" Daryl bellowed across the room. "Get your ass over here before Short Round eats all th' food."

          Glenn blushed, unable to defend himself around a mouthful of ham and potatoes. Carol took the seat to Daryl's right, Sophia to his left. She was surprised to see he'd already piled a plate high with more than she'd likely be able to eat. The conversation turned a bit more boisterous, the group happily guzzling wine as if it were water with their meals. It was the first time they'd been able to relax in a really long time.

          After Carl had been allowed to try a bit of wine and nearly gagged, Daryl leaned over and asked a giggly Sophia if she'd like to have a taste. Daryl had already drunk his way through a bottle himself. "No," she said, shaking her head. "I don't think it's for me. Ed drank too much, and he wasn't a nice man to start with."

          Daryl ruffled her golden hair. "Good girl."

          Neither her choice nor her admission swayed him from opening another bottle and tipping some into Carol's glass. He wasn't a mean drunk like his daddy, and he’d never had a desire to do drugs after seeing how they’d affected Merle. His girls wouldn't be in danger should he over imbibe.

          "Daryl, no!" Carol protested. One glass was usually her limit, and then only when Ed had allowed her to drink at all.

          "I know what's goin' on in that head o' yours," he murmured lowly, close to her ear, so the others wouldn't overhear. "What do  _you_ want? Stop thinkin' about Ed and what he made y' do. Do somethin'  _you_  want for a change."

          Carol turned her head to stare at him, and her lips brushed the corner of his mouth. She'd known he'd been close … but not that close. Her eyes grew wide, unsure how he'd react. It was a testament to how much the alcohol affected him that he didn't jerk away and run from the room to put as much distance between them as possible. Instead, his smoky blue gaze became hooded and dropped down to her mouth. She forgot she was in a room full of her friends, forgot Sophia was there, forgot how to breathe. All she wanted with every quick race of her pulse was to have his lips on hers.

          "Didn't someone say something about dessert?" Dale asked, leaning back in his chair to rub his full belly.

          Lori was just coming back into the room with a tray laden with bowls of peach cobbler. "I got it," she sing-songed as she began to pass them out, her voice dragging Carol out of her trance.

          Carol hid her blushing face behind her wineglass and prayed the others would think it was the alcohol which had turned her cheeks rosy. Glenn, already deep in his cups, was about as red-faced as he could get.

          "I have to say, Mr. Dixon," Jenner said jovially. "Your wife is an amazing cook. Best meal I've had in longer than I can remember."

          The redneck's jaw stilled as he paused mid-chew. The rest of the table grew exceedingly quiet as they waited for his temper to explode.  _Wife?_  Was he talking about Carol? He gave his muddled head a shake. "Ain't no one can cook like her," he said, but he didn't correct the doctor's mistake and he was a little surprised Carol hadn't either.

          He could feel his face heat, feel her searching gaze like an intimate touch, and he shifted uncomfortably. For once he was glad when Debbie Downer started in with his questions and took the focus off of him.

          "So, Doc, not saying we ain't grateful for the hospitality, but when are you going to tell us what's going on here? Why is it just you? Surely you had a reason for staying," Shane asked, ready for answers.

          "Shane, we're celebrating. There will be time for that later," Rick said calmly as he set his wineglass back on the table. They didn't need Shane to upset their host.

          "Naw, man, s'why we're here, ain't it? To find answers?" His dark eyes swung back to Jenner. "So, c'mon, Doc … lay it on us."

          Carol felt rather sorry for the solitary man as he sat there under their scrutiny. Daryl, on the other hand looked bored as he poured another glass of wine. She'd be lucky if she didn't have to ask T-Dog and Rick to help carry him to their room.

          "There were more of us when it all began. We just kept working, trying to continue with testing to find a cure. We weren't even told how it all started," Jenner relayed in a hollow voice.

          Shane sat up and ran a hand over his face. "Wait … are you saying it started  _here?_  Right here!?" he snarled.

          Jenner shook his head. "No. I don't know anything about the bio weapons department. That section is  _need to know_  with the highest level of security. My department specializes in cures for certain viruses and bacterial infections."

          "Christ!" Daryl hissed. "Fuckin' government, I'm tellin' y'. Our tax dollars at work." He drained his glass and scowled at it. "Knew they'd try t' kill us eventually."

          Dale stared at the doctor, aghast. "So out of what? Guilt? You stayed behind to keep working? What happened to the others?"

          Jenner looked down to where his hands were folded atop his lap. "They stayed for a while, but when the military cordon was overrun, they bolted. They went home to their families. Some just … opted out."

          Carol couldn't stand much more. It was bad enough she was fuck only knew how many stories underground, but now she had to hear they'd chemically engineered the horror spreading over the earth in some bid for the government to declare germ warfare. She hoped those idiots in Washington DC were the first to be some walker's gourmet meal. They deserved it for sheer stupidity.

          Daryl grabbed her wrist in a gentle grip as she began to gather up the dirty dishes to take into the kitchen. She wasn't going to cook breakfast in the morning if she had to do dishes first thing. She'd much rather have it out of the way. "Whatcha doin'?" he slurred slightly.

          "I'm going to clean up," she said as if it should be obvious.

          "Nuh uh," he snapped. "You an' Lori cooked. Somebody else can do th' damn dishes."

          "Daryl, really I don't mind."

          Daryl looked at the others. "Any volunteers? 'Cause anyone not willin' to do their fair share don't need Carol cookin' their breakfast for 'em."

          Carol sighed and cut him a look that would have withered stone. She put the dishes on the tray and headed towards the kitchen. She knew he was trying to help, but he needed to understand how she felt. She could have used an hour to herself where she didn't have to think about Jenner's revelation and simply concentrate on her task.

          "Carol?" came his soft query from the doorway.

 _Crap!_  she thought. Now he wouldn't even look at her. He looked like a kicked puppy. She focused on running water in the sink. "Where's Sophia?"

          "She went t' th' game room with Carl." He peeked up at her from beneath his lashes, searching her face to see if she was angry with him.

          Carol added dish liquid to the water and turned off the faucet, smiling sweetly up at him as she handed him a sponge. "It was so nice of you to offer to do the dishes, Daryl. You're always there to step up to do your fair share."

          She bit the inside of her lip to hold her laughter at bay as she flounced out the door, leaving him with all the dishes he'd tried to get the others to scrub. He might be sulky for a few days, but he'd get over it … eventually.

 


	20. Chapter 20

 

          Daryl leaned against the door jamb of the game room and watched as Sofia groaned. She didn't much like losing - even if it was a simple game of battleship - especially to a smug twelve-year-old boy. He might be her best friend, but he was a cocky little thing. Must come from having a cop for a dad.

          He looked around, surprised Carol wasn't there with them when she rarely let the girl out of her sight. "Hey, Daryl, Sophia's mom said you were stuck with the dishes," Carl sniggered.

          Daryl arched a brow at him and took another swig from the bottle of Wild Turkey Jenner had given him. "Somethin' wrong with that, boy?" He wasn't going to admit Jacqui and Andrea had come in to save him from the chore at the last minute.

          "Er … no, but isn't that woman's work?"

          Sophia threw one of the little boats at his head, the plastic ship glancing off his temple. "I'm not believing you just said that, Carl Grimes. Chores are chores, and it's everyone's responsibility to help. Or are you a sexist pig in training?"

          Carl gaped at her, shaking his head. "No! I just thought -"

          "Well, it's about time you changed your way of thinking," she fumed. She'd witnessed firsthand how Ed had treated her mother while he'd sat on his lazy behind and did nothing but criticize her. Then he'd beat her black and blue if it weren't done exactly how he liked. Carol had tried to protect Sophia from seeing the ugly reality of her marriage, but the girl was more intuitive than anyone really suspected.

          "Soph," Daryl said, drawing her angry gaze away from her stuttering friend. "Cut him some slack, wouldja? Where's y' mama?"

          "I think she went to her room," Sophia replied. She regarded him through a narrow-eyed gaze, zeroing in on the faint smile about his lips. Where was the perpetual scowl he normally wore, she wondered. She got up from her seat and approached him cautiously. "Daryl, are you okay?"

          "Sure am, baby girl," he slurred. Then he stunned her to the tips of her toes by pulling her into a one-armed hug and dropping a kiss atop her head. "Don't stay up too late."

          Carl's eyes bugged as he watched the hunter stumble from the room. "Was that -"

          "Uh huh." She still couldn't believe it. He'd acted almost loving towards her. His stiff and sometimes cagey demeanor had given way to something a whole lot softer. It nearly brought tears to her eyes, to know he cared when her own father had never shown her an ounce of parental affection. Alcohol affected people differently though, and she wouldn't question it. She was just happy she didn't have to worry about her mother in his hands. She'd be able to rest easy knowing Carol would be just as safe as she always was with Daryl.

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl set the bottle down on the small dresser sitting at an angle in the corner of the room he'd be sharing with Carol. The queen-sized bed looked rather inviting with what he recognized as Carol's quilt draped over the top with the little blue and yellow flowers embroidered on it. Gawd, he was tired. He looked around, taking in the closed closet door, the small desk, the night table and lamp, ugly blue carpet … but no Carol. Where the hell was his woman?

          He shook his head, trying to clear it. He was a little drunk, so what? After the mad dash to find a safe place at the start of the outbreak, having to adjust to life with the group. Getting to know Carol had made that a lot easier than it would have been otherwise. Then the events leading to him adopting Carol and her daughter into his life, Merle going missing, and the attack on the camp. Yeah, he fuckin' deserved to get shit-faced drunk at least once.

          Jackson Dixon had been a right foul bastard under normal circumstances. Alcohol turned him into a demon spat out from the very pits of hell. Merle was pretty much the same when he did drugs, though with a healthy dose of sarcasm. Daryl simply lost his inhibitions and wallowed in a state of mellow bliss. Nothing bothered him, and the heavy weight of pain he carried around with him seemed to melt away. Yet now he was becoming a little concerned because Carol was nowhere to be found.

          Daryl sat down and bounced a little, testing the mattress. Softer than what he was used to, but beggars couldn't afford to be choosy. It was a lot better than the beds he'd had to sleep on in some of the places he and Merle had rented. He pulled off his boots and belt, setting them next to the desk. Still no Carol. There was one place he hadn't checked, he thought, eyeing the lone door situated in the opposite wall.

          His bare feet were more silent than usual against the carpet as he turned the knob and let himself into the bathroom. Success! He'd found her. Silly woman should have known better than to hide from him. "Carol …" Now  _he_  felt silly for the childish way he drew out her name. It was surreal the way the steam from the glass-enclosed shower fogged the room, as if he'd walked through the door into an mythical reality.

          Carol shrieked, startled by the intrusion. "Daryl! What're you doing in here!?"

          He shrugged. "Lookin' for you." She should have known that. He didn't like her far from his sight. Even in a place like the CDC - which seemed relatively safe - there were hidden dangers. Especially from what Jenner had told them over dinner.

          "Well, get out!"

          "Why?" he asked, leaning a hip against the white countertop with its double sinks.

          He watched her shadow become still behind the wavy glass as she tried to come up with an excuse. He really didn't see the problem. Although he should have, right?

          "Because I happen to be naked!" she hissed, more than a little indignant.

          He grinned. "Want me t' get naked too? Then y' won't have t' be naked all by yerself." That made sense, he was sure of it.

          The little squeak she made amused him, but all that changed in a heartbeat. Her foot slipped, and the sound was replaced by a clatter and an audible groan. "Ow!"

          Daryl didn't hesitate to think about what he might find behind that closed glass door. He had heard her yelp of pain, and his feet moved accordingly, carrying him across the floor to investigate. He wrenched the door open. "What!? What happened?"

          Carol screeched again and turned her back while her arms came up to cover her breasts. In the meantime, he was standing right behind her - fully clothed minus his boots - getting the full spray of the shower nozzle. "Daryl it's nothing! I just slipped and scratched my arm on the soap dispens -"

"Th' fuck is this?!" he roared, cutting her off.

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol cringed at his tone. She wasn't used to him raising his voice to her, and she couldn't help it as her old instincts surfaced and had her curling her body in on itself. She had always before expected pain at that tone, a harsh hand and cruel words … not the feather light touch of his calloused fingers ghosting over the scars on her back or the muted choking sound coming from his throat as if he were trying to hold back a sob.

          "It's nothing," she repeated. "Just old scars, Daryl."

          But she could see it meant more to him as she glanced over her shoulder to see his stricken expression. She shivered despite the hot water pouring over them. He seemed fascinated, his hand trembling as he traced each one. "I wish I could dig 'im up an' kill 'im again," he rasped out, his throat thick with emotion.

          "It's in the past where it needs to stay. I'm trying really hard to move forward, Daryl. I can't let what Ed did to me rule my future." She turned, one arm still covering her breasts from his downcast gaze. She could see the emotions warring on his face, and reached out to reassure him, her fingers coming to rest along his scruffy cheek. "It's okay now."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl nuzzled into her palm, glad the shower was running so she couldn't distinguish the tears which flowed hotly down his face, his heart a mangled mess from what she must have suffered to have such marks permanently branded into her skin. "How?" he couldn't stop himself from asking. For some reason he couldn't explain, he just needed to know.

          Carol didn't protest when his hands settled at her waist as he drew her forward to rest his brow to hers. He'd done this to her before, and she never failed to feel the strong connection between them. He was her friend, though … wasn't he? Just her friend, or did he feel more for her but was afraid to admit it? He sighed as his skin met hers, his nose running alongside her own, and she couldn't mistake the fumes of the alcohol he'd drunk.

          Another difference between him and her former husband. Ed had been a cruel drunk whereas Daryl had seemed to mellow and become more affectionate. She wondered briefly if he would want more than she was ready to give. She bit her lip, her entire body trembling as his fingers once more moved around her back to trace her scars. She didn't know what to do, and it scared the hell out of her.

          "Carol?"

          What had he asked? "Wire coat hanger," she whispered, wondering if he could even hear her over the rushing water. "He'd had a bad day at work, and I made it worse when I asked him for the fees for Sophia's class trip." She jumped a little as his arms crushed her to him and he hid his face in her neck. How had it come about that she'd told him another of Ed's despicable acts and wound up comforting  _him_? She was going to have to stop confiding bits of her past to him if it was going to hurt him so badly.

          She winced at the tortured expression on his handsome face as he pulled back to look at her. He didn't say anything. What could he say, really?  _I'm sorry y' were married t' an asshole? I'm sorry y' were a stupid bitch who was dumb enough t' let your husband use y' as a punchin' bag?_  And she waited for him to say something to that effect, but the words never came. Instead he took her hands and guided them to the buttons on his wet shirt. When she hesitated, unsure exactly what he wanted her to do, he unfastened the first one for her.

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl felt as if his heart was going to punch through his ribs and beat right out of his chest. What the hell was he doing? Had he really just given her permission to take off his shirt, to see the scars which marred his own flesh? He made up his mind then to stay away from the tempting siren's call of whiskey. It made him do stupid shit which he always regretted the following morning. But there was that voice - it sounded suspiciously like Merle too, which was totally absurd and should have given him some warning - telling him he could trust her.

          It was making his stomach hurt, wondering how she'd react to the scars on his torso. Would she look and be overwhelmed with pity, or would she empathize with him due to her own experiences? She wouldn't ridicule him, surely … not her. Not Carol. Yet he still felt as if he were dangling at the edge of a cliff hanging on by his fingernails.

          When all the buttons had been freed of their holes, her eyes darted up to his, holding his gaze as she slid the wet garment from his shoulders to land with a plop against the tiles. His lips quirked up slightly to see the pink tinting her cheeks. Was she nervous, embarrassed to be naked with him? He realized suddenly he should be in a near state of panic, but he couldn't remember why. It felt good to be like this with her. It felt  _right._

          His chest told a story, each scar representing either a victory or humiliation. They were a part of him he could no more erase than she could hers. He shivered as she trailed her fingers over the little white lines over his ribs. "Merle teachin' me how t' fight with a knife," he explained. "Don't worry. He got some too."

          Carol glanced up at him in horror, wondering how the brothers could be so savage. She continued her exploration, enjoying the feel of his skin beneath the pads of her fingers. She didn't know why he was allowing her to familiarize herself with his body, but she was glad. He was strengthening the connection between them without even realizing it.

          She grimaced as she came to a particularly nasty puckered scar just above his right hip bone. "Got shot savin' Marty's ass from that useless piece o' shit she'd shacked up with. Bullet went clean through, but I couldn't go t' th' hospital an' have 'em call th' cops. So, Merle patched me up," he supplied.

          "There were a lot of times I couldn't seek treatment too." She swallowed thickly as he pulled her flush with his body, his hands tracing over the curve of her spine. It felt so good to be wrapped up in his embrace, so safe. He didn't overwhelm her or pressure her for anything. He simply held her tenderly, giving instead of taking. She'd never been held like that before, and she found herself wanting more.

          For the first time in her life, she was actually grateful to the effects of alcohol. She was more than aware of Daryl's natural tendencies, to shy away from people, to avoid touch at all costs. He'd been more open with her as they grew closer, but this was more than she'd ever expected. She dropped the arm draped over her chest and wrapped it around his waist, closing that last gap between them.

          He flinched when her fingers brushed against the scars on his back and drew in a shuddering breath. It never failed … Every time, that first touch brought with it the memories of his pain, his suffering. Those pretty lashes of hers, spiky with moisture, fluttered up and he could see the concern in her azure gaze. "Will you let me see?" she breathed, nervously waiting to see what he would do.

          Still, he watched her wait so patiently for what seemed like forever before he gave her his back. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to relax, willing the voice of his father back to the darkest corners of his mind. Carol was light and good, tender and caring, gentle and loving. She wouldn't hurt him.

          It was torture, waiting for her to say something …  _anything._ And then her fingers were mapping the planes of his back and he saw heaven. With the utmost care, she caressed the thin purple scars over his left shoulder blade, the deeper mangled mess on his lower back … even those partially hidden by the demon tattoos. He leaned against the cool gray tiles of the shower and groaned as her arms wrapped about his waist from behind and he felt her warm breath fan out over his spine. Would she?

          His body certainly hoped she would. She did, her lips pressing tiny kisses to the criss-crossed lines on his left shoulder. Gooseflesh erupted over his arms, and a tremor shot through him. Now his body responded to her in a whole different way, and he was acutely aware of her nakedness as pleasure tightened his skin, making every hair on his nape stand at attention. And that wasn't the only part of him applauding.

          His hand covered hers where they rested on his belly above the waistband of his khakis, and her sweet voice only added to his growing desire for her. "Oh, Daryl, I wish I could be brave like you."

          He huffed a laugh and turned back to face her. "Took a chance on a Dixon … cain't get much braver than that."

          Carol snorted, and he was pleased he'd been able to amuse her. There wasn't enough laughter in her life. He smiled lazily at her, fascinated with what seemed like a permanent blush on her skin. His eyes followed it down the elegant curve of her neck and across her chest to her perfect breasts. God, he wanted to touch her so badly, but something held him back. Whether his own fears or afraid to take advantage, he didn't know. Instead, he buried his face against the crook of her neck and breathed her in, letting the intoxicating scent of jasmine and peony caress his battered senses.

          Daryl's lips pressed into the tendon, his teeth scraping gently as her hands went to the waistband of his pants. He froze, giving himself a rough mental shake. What the hell was happening? They'd gone from giving comfort to one another and careened into no man's land where rules had caught the first flight out. Her fingers were already lowering the zipper, and in less time than it took to blink, she'd be discovering just how much he wanted her. There'd be no more secrets to hide from her.

          Carol smiled and flushed a deeper shade of red. "Don't be embarrassed," she said, holding his wide-eyed gaze. "But it's not like you can get clean unless we take these off."

          Hmm, he mused. She  _wanted_ him naked now? Perhaps things were looking up. He glanced down at his obvious erection. Things were  _definitely_  looking up. But they could just as easily get out of control if he let her touch him, even if it was with a sponge. "Um …"

          "Turn around," she cooed sweetly. He bet she was more than skilled with dealing with a drunk husband. Dealing with a drunk Dixon was a whole other ballgame. He wondered if she was as affected by his nakedness as he was by hers. Oh, he was afraid he was in for a world of hurt before the deed was done.

          He did as she asked, turning to face the wall. Her touch was firm but gentle as she began with his shoulders, and he rather enjoyed the slight abrasion of the sponge as it scrubbed the filth and grime from his skin. It was her accompanying hand gliding next to it that would ultimately be his undoing. He'd always admired her hands, delicate and graceful, capable of making such wonderful things to eat or soothing away the hurts of the world. Now that hand kneaded into his flesh, rubbing out the tension, touching parts of his body no one had ever touched but him.

          Gentle pressure had him turning at her whim, and a slow smile curled his lips as his eyes closed in bliss. "I got somethin' else for y' t' rub if you've a mind," he teased. He didn't think she could flush more brightly.

          Carol shook her head. "The only saving grace in this scenario is you're highly unlikely to remember this at all. You don't want me like that, Daryl … not when you can do so much better."

          "Why would y' think so? Did Ed tell y' no one would ever want y' or somethin’?" he growled, taking the sponge and tossing it aside as the spray rinsed the soap bubbles down the drain. He could see the truth written all over her face. Daryl pulled her to him, one arm pressing her firmly against his body, so she could feel all of him. "Does that feel like I don't want y'?"

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol gasped, her eyes slamming shut as she felt his cock press against her belly. As it was, she was already battling between what her mind was telling her and what her body seemed to want. Unfortunately, due to his inebriated state, her mind won. She wasn't even going to think of some of the things Ed had hurled at her over the course of their marriage. It was pointless when she'd made up her mind to move forward. "You're drunk, Daryl. If you were in your right mind -"

          "I'd want y' just as much."

          She shot him a dubious look, reaching behind him to turn off the water. But when she tried to move away and reach for a towel, he held on tighter. She didn't know what to think of the wicked smirk twisting his mouth, but she knew it didn't bode well. Before she knew it, his face was at the crook of her neck again and he was nuzzling like a big feral cat. One doing his damnedest to break down all the walls she'd constructed to protect her heart and cross a line he was sure to regret come morning.

          Her arms lifted of their own accord to wrap around his broad shoulders. Whether she was willing to admit it or not, she was as touch starved as he was for a gentle hand and she literally craved him. He was a drug to her senses and she was steadily becoming addicted. He rubbed his scruff against the sensitive flesh at her throat and a wave of heat assaulted her.

          "Cain't I at least have a kiss? Jus' one?" he whined. She could just imagine the puppy eyes if he'd raise his head to look at her.

          "Daryl …" she mewled as his hot breath traveled up the column of her neck to nip at her ear.  _Gawd! Destruction …and thy name is Dixon. Oh, it was such a bad idea to give in._ She pushed gently at his shoulders, and very lightly reached up to cradle his face in her hands.

          His eager smile decimated the last of her resistance and she slowly drew him forward …

          "Mom? Mom are you in there?" Sophia called through the door. "I'm going to bed now and was just wanting to say goodnight."

          Carol blanched, and she quickly covered Daryl's mouth with her hand to stifle his curse. "Just give me a minute to throw some clothes on and I'll come tuck you in, baby."

          "Ok, mom."

          His hands reached for her, but she quickly evaded them, grabbing a towel and hurriedly drying off. Daryl banged his head back against the tiles and groaned as he heard the door close behind her. "Well. Just. Shit!"

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Ok guys …you all know this is all fun and games for me bc i just enjoy writing. No copyright infringement intended. TWD does not belong to me. I only added this here, bc I had to borrow a few lines of dialogue for the scientific aspect of 01x06 and Jenner's explanation …which I've added to, but that's neither here nor there. Just covering my own ass ok?

 

          "There's water and aspirin on the nightstand," Carol whispered behind a huge yawn. Daryl groaned. How had the woman even known he was awake? It was bad enough she was spread across him, limbs entwined with her knee wedged between his parted thighs. He took stock of his own body and blanched. Where the fuck were his clothes?

          His jaw clenched as he gnashed his teeth against the pain in his skull. Tiny little walkers were in there steadily gnawing away at what was left of his gray matter. Ugh! He'd never felt panic so acutely. His heart raced, his breathing sped up and he felt as if he were going to throw up. He swallowed thickly, sure she could hear the thundering of his heart where her head lay on his chest. "I got anything I need t' apologize for?"

          Carol smiled, but didn't open her eyes. "No."

 _No? Just no?_ He sighed. It didn't sit well with him that his memories after he'd left Sophia in the game room were a total blank. Daryl scowled at the bottle of whiskey resting innocuously on the dresser across the room. Reaching over without disturbing Carol, he popped the pills and drained the water bottle.

 _Th' fuck happened last night?_  he wondered. He knew he'd never been so drunk he couldn't remember. It had been imperative to keep his wits about him in the past, what with Merle as a brother. He closed his eyes against the pain as images flashed across his mind's eye.  _No! No, no, no, no, hell no!_ He bolted upright, earning a grumble from Carol as he dislodged her from his chest. He thanked whatever god was listening for the foresight to have at least put on clean boxers before he'd passed out as he darted for the bathroom.

          Daryl dove for the toilet, barely making it in time to empty his sour stomach.  _What th' fuck was I thinkin'?_ And once the images began - a god he'd forsaken reveling in his sadistic glee, no doubt - they hit him like a freight train. Barging into the shower, confronting her about her scars, showing her his own.  _Fuckin' hell, I showed 'er my scars!?_ Her touch as she’d scrubbed him from top to toe, and his more than inappropriate behavior when she'd made him hard and needy.  _Fuckkkk!_

          He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and flopped back to lean against the wall with a whimper. How was he ever going to face her? Or look at her for that matter? Wasn't like he could hide out in the bathroom until he died of old age. He had a feeling she'd question that.

          "Daryl?" she called softly as she knocked lightly at the door. "Are you alright in there?"

          Bless her and her soft ways. Merle would have been yelling at the top of his lungs and pounding every surface he could find just to make it worse. "Lemme 'lone, woman," he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

          "I can't bear the thought of you suffering," she practically whispered. "Can I get you anything?"

          He gnawed his lip to hold back another whimper. "More aspirin maybe," he grunted.

 _Oh, GAWD, what am I gonna do!? Play dumb!_  he thought as her words from last night rang loudly in his ears …  _The only saving grace in this scenario is you're highly unlikely to remember this at all._ Again, he groaned, and the sound irritated him. He couldn't just sit there all day bemoaning his fate. He had to do something. But what?

          Before he could come up with a plan, Carol returned with another bottle of water and more aspirin. Now that he had control over himself, he hoped he'd be able to hold it down. Without a word, she went to the sink and wet a cloth. He expected her to hand it to him and maybe go back to bed, her job done. He really should have known better. His woman was a nurturer …  _his_ woman? Where the hell had that thought come from. He was on the verge of groaning again when she gently lifted his chin and began to bathe his face. He couldn't help but sigh; it felt so nice.

          "I really think you need to go back to sleep now you've gotten the poison out of your system," she murmured quietly.

          Daryl wanted to just lean over and curl up with his head on her lap. "Don't wanna move. Everything hurts," he admitted, resting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. "You sure I don't have nothin' t' apologize for?"

          "Yes, I'm sure." She smirked smugly, and he allowed her to believe he didn't remember anything. "And, you're not going to stay here in the bathroom all day, Daryl"

          He reached out and lightly grasped her wrist when she rose to her feet. "Wait … don't leave me."

          Carol snorted a laugh and tugged on his hand. "Do you feel as though you're going to be sick again?"

          He shook his head. "No," he replied in a sulky tone.

          "Come on then. Let's go back to bed and I'll sit with you for a while before I have to go start on breakfast. It's too chilly in here for you to sleep on the floor."

          He got up too fast and clutched at his head as he followed her back into their bedroom. "Had t' be th' fuckin' wine I drank. Shoulda just stuck t' the whiskey."

          Carol fluffed his pillow and smiled indulgently at him as he settled back onto the bed. No sooner than she'd sat down beside him, he buried his head on her lap and wrapped an arm around her legs, assuring himself she wasn't going anywhere. He really didn't give a good goddamn if the rest of them starved.

          Her fingers threaded through his shaggy hair, and she let her nails scrape gently at his scalp. "Where's my big brave hunter? My snarling snapping Dixon who eats mere mortals for lunch?"

          Daryl shot her a disgusted look, not at all appreciating her poking fun at him when he was dying. "He's hidin' under a fuckin' rock, apparently," he mumbled against the smooth skin of her thighs left bare by the cotton shorts she wore with her tank top. "Y' fuckin' mother ever'one else in th' group an' wanna give me shit. Some friend y' are."

          Carol let her hand drift lower to knead the knot of tension at the very top of his spine with her gentle touch. "Shh, go back to sleep," she cooed softly. "And just remember ... "

          "What?" he grumbled petulantly.

          She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his temple, her voice as gentle and soothing as her hands. "Remember, I like you best."

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol slipped quietly from the room she shared with Daryl, making sure not to make any noise. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, and she didn't want to disturb him. She'd send Sofia for him when it was time to eat. She shook her head. If she lived to be a hundred - and the chances for that were a lot less likely nowadays - she would never understand men's obsession with drink. Or at least men of her acquaintance. She was pleased, however; Daryl was nothing like Ed had been.

          A small smile quirked her lips as she let her mind wander to the events of last night. Daryl hadn't at all been himself. It was as if he'd just let go and freed himself from the burden of responsibility he wore around his neck like a yolk. No pain or fear remained either, and he'd been able to show her a part of himself she'd never thought to see. And she liked it … a lot.

          Her cheeks still burned when she remembered the feel of his work-roughened hands caressing her back, and the touch of his lips at her throat. Ed, for damned sure, had never made her feel so wanted or desired. Lord, what was wrong with her? She'd just escaped a lifetime of abuse. How could she think to trust another man with her body … her heart? It was true, she trusted Daryl with her life, but her heart was a whole other matter entirely.

          Yet, confronted with her near surrender before Sophia's interruption, that argument just didn't hold water. What would have happened if she'd given in completely and kissed him? Would she have been able to end it there? Would he have wanted more? Would she? Ugh! she groaned.

          She gave herself a mental shake. Daryl was drunk. He had an itch and any female would have done in a pinch. She just happened to be convenient and within scratching distance. He would have been horrified if he'd woken up naked with her this morning. He very nearly had, having slept in only his boxers. And he didn't remember anything.

          Carol had to admit, she was rather disappointed his memory had failed him. When he'd trusted her enough to show her his scars, it had moved her deeply. She'd felt his pain as he'd surely felt hers, the bond between them strengthening exponentially. Why couldn't he have at least remembered that part? What were they supposed to do now … continue on as they had been?

 _I'd want y' just as much._ A wave of heat rushed through her as his words whirled in her mind, forcing her to clutch at the wall as she fought off a wave of dizziness.

          She bit her lip and continued down the hallway in the direction of the kitchen.  _Snap out of it, Carol!_ she scolded herself.  _A relationship built on lust never lasts._

          Damn … now she really  _did_ miss her vibrator.

 

*.*.*

 

          By the time she'd navigated the maze of corridors and reached the kitchen, she'd called herself stupid a dozen times and had begun to feel better. She and Daryl had a wonderful friendship, and she wasn't going to allow whatever burgeoning desire she felt get in the way of that. He’d been drunk. He hadn't had full control of his faculties, and he didn't remember it anyway.

          "Mornin', Carol," T-Dog greeted her with a bright smile. He'd already pulled bacon and sausage from the freezer and had them thawed. "How'd you sleep? I slept like a rock."

          Carol grinned. "Yeah, it was nice having an actual bed to sleep in."

          "You seen anyone yet?"

          She went to the pantry for the dry ingredients she'd need for pancakes. "Just Sophia and Carl. I wanted them to have a chance to use the bathroom before Daryl woke up."

          T chuckled. "I can imagine he won't be in the best of moods this morning. But then, when is Dixon  _ever_ in a good mood?"

          Carol shot him a patient look, the one she used on everyone when she thought they were out of line. "Don't be mean, T. I think pretty much everyone had a bit too much wine last night. It was really the first time since this all started where we were allowed to relax and relieve a little stress."

          The big man poured eggs into a large mixing bowl and attacked it with a whisk. "Hell yeah … And it felt good too."

          It didn't take them long to get breakfast on the table, though some members of their group looked less than enthusiastic. Daryl was nursing his second cup of coffee and taking the stuffing out of Glenn, who was sitting with his head in his hands and groaning into his orange juice.

          "Toldja, little man … that'll teach y' t' listen next time," Daryl chuckled.

          "Next time?!" Glenn gaped. "There will  _never_ be a next time."

          Lori passed him the bottle of Advil Jenner had produced for them. Rick wasn't in much better shape, and Carol knew the only reason Daryl wasn't suffering was because she'd tended to his hangover earlier. She let her lips bloom into a secretive smile, but she wouldn't even think to tell of his own wretched condition from earlier.

          Carol took heart to see it hadn't affected his appetite as he shoveled down his pancakes, eggs and sausage. She picked at her own breakfast, her stomach twisted in knots. She had good reason considering what she was about to ask, but she couldn't put it off. It had been bothering her all night.

          Thankfully, they were down the table away from everyone and she didn't have to worry about anyone overhearing. "Daryl?"

          He grunted in response, his mouth full. "Hm?" He cast her a sideways look and busied his hands with pouring her a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table.

          "I need to ask you something …"

          Daryl looked down at his plate, nervous as he imagined her bringing up things he was trying his best to forget. "So … ask, woman," he bit out a bit harsher than what he'd intended.

          She bit her lip with indecision, but it would drive her crazy if she let it fester within her much longer. "Last night … you let Jenner think I was your wife. Why?"

          Of all the things she could have asked, this wasn't what he'd expected. He'd forgotten all about it, more worried about what had taken place in the shower. "Safer … uh … safer if people think you're m' wife. We don't really know what kinda people are out there now, Carol, or what they're capable of. Y' don't need another asshole like Ed thinkin' he has a right t' take y' from me." He sighed, hating the way his tongue threatened to stick to the roof of his mouth. "Jus' tryin' t' protect y'. 'Sides … I didn't hear y' protest the claim."

          Carol noticed the blush on his cheeks and bit back a smile. "I don't mind. I knew you had a reason. I just wanted to know what it was.  _We_ know the extent of our relationship, and that's all that matters."

          She tried - really hard - to quell the rush of pleasure his words instilled in her. She'd hated the feeling of being owned by her ex-husband, but it made her happy to think Daryl worried about losing her, to think maybe he thought her necessary to his own happiness. If he wanted any strangers they met to believe she was his wife, she'd play along. What worried her was what was going to happen if  _she_  began to believe it.

          "Y' trust me t' keep y' safe, don'tcha?" he asked, his intense gaze focused on his plate. "I'd never do anythin' t' hurt y', woman."

          Her eyes were filled with tenderness, even if her heart was filled with trepidation. "I know."

          Dale set his fork down next to his plate and folded his hands beneath his chin while Andrea sat next to him shoving her eggs around in little patterns. "Dr. Jenner … I don't mean to cast a pall on our meal, but we have some questions."

          Jenner pushed his empty plate aside and smiled sadly. "I can well imagine."

          The old man shifted nervously. "Your research … do you have any idea how the virus works, how it might be cured? You must have  _some_ hope if you've stuck it out this long."

          Sophia dropped Carl's hand, ending their intense thumb war as her focus shifted to the scientist. "Or is this like finding a cure for cancer?" she asked, her crystalline gaze sharp. "I've never believed – with all the brilliant minds of this world – no one has ever been able to develop a cure. The pharmaceutical companies make all the money with their treatments while the sick have to suffer." Carol raised her brows at her intuitive daughter, but she didn't interrupt. "But money doesn't come into this. Money is worthless now. It's all about survival. So, what's being done to fix this?"

          Jenner smiled at her. "Aren't you a little young for conspiracy theories?"

          Daryl's gaze narrowed on him across the table. "She may be young, but she ain't stupid. In fact, she makes more sense than y' being holed up here while th' world's goin' t' shit."

          "I meant no offense, I assure you." The doctor rose to his feet and motioned to the door. "There's something you all need to see. If you'd kindly come with me."

          Daryl and Sophia were the last to leave the room, the girl slipping her hand into his larger one. "Daryl, should I not have said anything? Was it wrong?"

          "Hell no," he scoffed. "If y' got somethin' t' say, say it. Y' ain't gotta be afraid t' speak your mind."

          Sophia smiled, basking in his approval. She'd spent so many years guarding every word she spoke; it was rather freeing to have his permission to be herself. "I don't like this place, and I miss Merle. How's he ever going to find us if we're stuck here?"

          Daryl squeezed her hand. "He will, Soph. Sooner or later we'll find each other. Jus' focus on th' stuff he taught y' an' keep your head up, ok?"

          She nodded as they were led into the vast workroom they'd seen last night with its computer workstations spread out in a semi-circle on two sides. Jenner wasted no time calling up video footage of what he called test subject nineteen.

          Sophia watched the screen closely as the internal view of the brain was brought into sharp focus. She stood next to Daryl, fighting a roll of her eyes as Shane asked what the lights were. "Synapses," she murmured. "Electrical impulses."

          Everyone stared at her as if she'd grown an extra head. "Oh, come on," she snorted. "I happen to be fascinated by science, and I used to watch a lot of YouTube."

          Daryl gaped at her, realizing she was smarter than she looked. She must've really given old Ed a run for his money. He quickly closed his mouth as she arched a brow at him. "Seriously? Haven't you ever watched Frankenstein and wondered why the crazy doctor needed lightning to reanimate the monster?"

          Jenner nodded. "She's right. Those electrical impulses, synapses … they are what makes you  _you_. Your thoughts, your memories, your desires are all there, a continuous cycle of life there in your brain."

          The video went through a time lapse to the next step of their testing, bringing them to the test subject's death. Rick propped himself against one of the consoles, still feeling the effects of his hangover. "So, what … this is a vigil? This person died?"

          "Yes," Jenner replied. "Someone who was bitten and infected and then volunteered to allow us to record the process." The video scanned forward again to show how the virus affected its host, eventually killing them. "It invades the brain like meningitis. The adrenal glands hemorrhage, the brain shuts down, followed by the major organs. Then death. Everything you ever were or will be … gone."

          Jenner had the computer scan forward again. "Resurrection times vary. We've had one in as little as three minutes, the longest we've heard of was eight hours."

          Lori gasped as she stared up at the screen where the video showed the virus working to reanimate its host. "It restarts the brain?"

          Jenner shook his head as he turned to look at her. "No, just the brain stem. Basically, it gets them up and moving. It doesn't restore who you were … that's gone forever. The body is just a shell driven by mindless instinct."

          Carol jumped as the image showed the test subject being put down. "Oh, God!" In the attack, she'd had to shoot her fair share of walkers to protect the others, but the actual visual of what she'd seen sent a chill down her spine.

          Andrea crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the scientist. "You have no idea what it is, do you? Or how to fix it."

          "It could be microbial, viral, parasitic, fungal … as I said yesterday, it wasn't my department. I could spend years studying it and still not know."

          Dale swiped a hand over his face, his bushy silver brows pulling together. "Someone somewhere has to know what's going on. Surely, you can't be the only one."

          Jenner was growing increasingly more jittery under the group's scrutiny. "I don't know … there  _are_  other facilities, other teams of scientists spread out across the world, but -"

          "You don't know?" Rick asked incredulously. "How can you not know?"

          The doctor raked a hand through his wispy blond hair and huffed out a breath of frustration. "Communications, directives, all of it … gone. You think this is easy? Going on with my research, limited as it is with no clue as to what I'm supposed to do if I somehow find the answers? I've been in the dark for almost a month."

          Andrea shot him a look of disgust. "So, it's not just here, it's everywhere. There's nothing left out there for us?" Tears welled in her eyes as his silence confirmed what they'd been thinking all along. Jacqui didn't look much better as she wrapped a comforting arm around the blonde.

          Daryl pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and groaned. "Damn … I'ma get shitfaced drunk … again."

          Carol laid her hand on his arm and stoically gazed up at him. He really hated that look. It made him feel like he'd gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar and he was in trouble. "Do you really think that's wise? Especially since you can't remember what you did last night."

          "That's th' point, woman! I could really use some forgettin' right about now." He whirled around, pointing a finger at Rick. "Well, there's your answers, Rick! Hope yer fuckin' happy now."

          Dale made his way around a bank of terminals and nodded towards the screen as he addressed the doctor. "Dr. Jenner, I know this has been taxing for you, and I hate to ask one more question, but … that clock," he said, pointing at the wall where the digital behemoth was steadily clicking away. "It's counting down. What happens at zero?"

          Jenner turned slowly. "The basement generators run out of fuel."

          Rick frowned. "Then what?" he asked. Everything he'd hoped to find at the CDC - shelter, help, answers - was in a pile of ash at his feet, and he was slowly gearing up to lose what little control he had left. He had his group to think of. They were expecting him to lead them to safety, to somehow grasp tightly onto order amidst the chaos and he was failing epically. He couldn't accept it. Lori … Carl … he had to make things right for them. When Jenner wouldn't answer, he addressed the voice activated computer system himself. "Vi, what happens when the power runs out?"

          "When the power runs out, facility decontamination will occur," it answered.

          Daryl glowered at them all. "I got two five-gallon cans in th' back o' th' truck I filled on th' last run."

          Jenner snorted a laugh. "The tanks in the basement hold one hundred gallons each. It would be like trying to fill up your car with a thimbleful of gas."

          "Well, hell. Don't say I didn't offer."

          Carol sidled up beside him, her whole body trembling. Rick took a few of the others and rushed off to the basement to see for himself just how dire their situation was. "What do we do? I don't like the way the good doctor -"

          "More like a mad scientist, Mom," Sophia chimed in.

          "I don't like the way he closed down on us. He knows something, or he's  _done_  something, and you can bet it isn't good," she said, keeping her voice low so only they could hear.

          "He's definitely hidin' somethin'," the redneck agreed. "C'mon."

          "Where're we going?" the girl asked as she made to follow him.

          "We're gonna make sure all our stuff is packed an' then we're gettin' the hell outta this funhouse."

          "What about the others, Daryl? We can't just leave them," Carol protested.

          Daryl pushed through the door of their room and headed straight to the bottle of cheap whiskey still sitting on the dresser. "Yes, th' fuck we can," he mumbled, drinking deeply. "Y' don't understand! We don't need them. Th' only reason I agreed t' stay with th' group is because o' you and Soph. I figured y' needed your friends, but this is bullshit, an' y' know it."

          Sophia went to her own room to grab her pack and jacket while Carol crossed her arms defensively over her chest and prepared herself for his temper. "We  _do_  need them, Daryl. Wouldn't you rather have everyone together instead of trying to survive out there on our own? To have someone to watch our backs?"

          "I don't care!" he hissed. "We got two asshole cops leadin' this circus, an' they’re too busy fightin' amongst themselves t' pay attention as t' what needs t' be done. If they wanna stay an’ be 'decontaminated' or whatever th' fuck that means, I couldn't care less. But  _you_  an' Sophia … you're mine t' protect. Y'all come first, y' hear me?"

          Carol gasped as his fingers curled over her upper arms. Ed in the same circumstances would have shaken her senseless, but her hunter was gentle, his thumbs brushing lightly over her skin. He was scared and didn't know how to deal with the situation. "I know, and we'll figure it out. Maybe you could talk to Rick … see if he'll leave with us."

          Daryl let her go. "And if he won't? You'll still go with me?" he asked, hoisting his pack over his shoulder and reaching for his crossbow where he'd leaned it against the wall by the door.

          "Of course. You're not going anywhere without me, Dixon." She enjoyed the smirk which touched his lips only a second before she jerked her quilt off the bed, donned her jacket and grabbed her pack.

 

*.*.*

 

          He very nearly collided with the former deputy as they entered the computer room simultaneously. "Where're you going?"

          "We sure as fuck ain't stayin' here," Daryl growled.

          Rick shook his head, adopting his cop stance. "We don't even know we're in any danger yet. You can't just go running off half-cocked. We all need to stick together."

          Daryl scowled blackly at him, his free hand clenched into a fist at his side. "Yeah, well this decontamination thing don't sound like it's gonna keep us none too healthy for long."

          The scientist looked defeated as he stood before them. "I worked as long as possible. I just ran out of time. The French … they thought they were close to a breakthrough before their facility ran out of juice." He gave a weary shake of his head. "There just wasn't enough time."

          Rick stared at him in horror before he snapped. "Daryl's right. We gotta get out of here. Now! Everyone, grab your stuff; we're leaving!"

          Alarms rang loudly through the cavernous room, sending a jolt of fear through those gathered. Sophia held her bow in a fierce grip as Carol wrapped a protective arm about her shoulders.

          Jenner went to the console and shut down the alarms as Shane ushered everyone back to their quarters to gather their things. "What the hell is going on, Doc?" he demanded.

          Glenn panicked as the heavy metal door leading out to the elevators sealed shut. "He locked us in!"

          Daryl dropped his belongings at his feet and launched himself at the doctor. "Y' son of a bitch! Y' can't keep us here!" he roared.

          Shane and Rick caught him, dragging him back before he could follow through with his plan to beat the scientist senseless. He flung them off of him and backed away, giving T-Dog a warning look when it seemed he'd try his hand at subduing him. Daryl wrapped an arm around Carol and let her cry quietly on his shoulder. Sophia looked as if she were ready to shoot Jenner with her bow.

          "Daryl …"

          "I know," he whispered. It was destroying him to know Carol was so frightened and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to fix it or make it better. It was time their fearless leader manned up and got them the hell out of there.

          "Jenner," Rick said, approaching him slowly. "Open the door and let us out. You can't keep us locked down here with you."

          The doctor ignored him. "I told you last night once those doors closed, they wouldn't be reopened. All exits are sealed tight."

          "Then open them," Dale tried to reason with him.

          "Not my call," Jenner said, still maintaining his calm tone as if their lives weren't at stake. "The computer controls them. Besides, it's better this way."

          Rick shot a glance at the digital clock still ticking down on the wall. "Why? What happens in twenty-eight minutes?"

          Carol held tightly to the front of Daryl's shirt, her fingers twisting in the fabric. She could feel the tension radiating through his wiry body, and knew he was just itching to lay into the stubborn man who was toying with their very existence.

          Shane gripped Jenner's shoulder, but he shook him off, finally losing the thin thread of control he'd been clinging to. "Do you know what this place is? Have you any idea? We protected the public from some very nasty stuff … weaponized smallpox, Ebola strains which could wipe out half the country … stuff you don't want getting out, EVER!" He ignored the nervous glances sent his way, straightened his jacket and tried to collect himself. "In the event of a catastrophic power failure," he continued, reverting to his calm tone once more, "in a terrorist attack, for example, H.I.T.s are deployed to prevent anything from getting out."

          "H.I.T.s?" Rick asked. Even with his vast knowledge of weapons, he'd never come across the term.

          Jenner called out to the computer. "Vi, please define H.I.T.s."

          The computer was quick to supply the answer they sought. "H.I.T.s … high-impulse thermobaric explosives consist of a two-stage aerosol ignition that produces a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosive except nuclear. The vacuum-pressure effect ignites the oxygen between five and six thousand degrees and is useful when the greatest loss of life and damage to structures is desired."

          "It sets the air on fire," the scientist explained in layman's terms, a hint of madness in his eyes. "No pain … an end to sorrow and grief … regret … everything."

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Yeah, more of the same …don't own anything. Just borrowing a little dialogue (but not much). This is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended yada yada yada.

 

          Carol watched wordlessly as Shane and Daryl attacked the blast door with axes. What good they thought they were doing, she had no idea. Sophia sat now with Lori and Carl as Dale and Rick tried to reason with Jenner to open the door without success. They were almost out of time. How many instances in the past, during her marriage to Ed, had she prayed for death, for a release from her eternal torment at his hands? She'd prayed so many times, yet the abuse had continued. How often had she been brought to the brink, broken and bleeding, only to be saved and have to endure more and more until she thought she'd surely lose the last shred of her sanity? And now at the end of the world, she found herself praying again, but for an entirely different reason. This time … she wanted to  _live_.

          Dale and Andrea - even Glenn - had all tried talking sense to the man, trying to convince him to open the doors with little success. He was determined to let the world burn and take them with him. Shane had even threatened to shoot him, to no avail. The computer terminals hadn't fared well at all. Not even Rick had been able to stop him from firing a blast of lead into the terminals. Her ears were still ringing. She wondered if maybe she could get through to Jenner. Now was her chance, what with Daryl hacking away futilely at the doors.

           Carol knew she wasn't good at this sort of thing. She'd spent too many years trying her absolute best to make herself invisible. Daryl was really the first person to  _see_  her. He'd initiated that first step in their friendship in a bid to help her, and it was the first time she'd stopped trying so hard to hide from the world and everything in it.

She clasped her hands together to still their trembling and sat down in the chair next to the beleaguered scientist. She couldn't even muster up a faint smile for the man, but she had to try.

          Jenner cut her off before she was able to begin. "I'm not going to change my mind."

          Carol shrugged. What else could she do? She wasn't going to take a leaf from Daryl's book and beat him senseless. All she had were her words. "I was just wondering if perhaps we could talk?"

          Jenner nodded, though he maintained his stubborn demeanor. "I suppose."

          "Daryl …" She turned to look at where he swung the axe at the door, the metal blade rebounding back at him again and again. "He's not my husband. I met him only about six weeks ago when we were running from the madness."

          Jenner looked surprised. "You two seem so close, like you share a bond only years of marriage can bring."

          Carol found her smile, unable to help herself as she thought of all they'd shared in the short time they'd known one another. "He saved me," she confided. "In so many ways he saved me. My husband, Ed, was a cruel man. I couldn't risk losing my daughter by leaving. In the end, Daryl left me with a choice … I could stay with Ed, or I could go with him. I chose Daryl. He beat at my walls until I accepted his help, and he took me and Sophia in. He gave us shelter, and made a place for us, made us part of his family. He taught me there was still good in the world, in humanity. He's doing his level best to teach us how to defend ourselves, to survive."

          Jenner's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "You're in love with him."

           Carol looked taken aback by his frank statement. "He's my best friend. Of course, I love him."

He shook his head. "No, it's more than that. You're lucky - unbelievably so - to have found one another in the chaos gripping the world." He sat back and let a sad smile touch his lips. "And you haven't told him. My wife … those were the last words I said to her. I should have told her more often, showed her how much she meant to me."

          Carol felt a creeping chill slither up her spine. "You said last night you stayed because you promised you'd keep working to find a cure. You made that promise to  _her_ , didn't you?"

          Jenner looked down at his feet, unable to stop the single tear which spilled from the corner of his eye. "It was her dying wish. How could I not? I would have done anything she asked."

          He glanced up at the now dark screen where he'd shown them all the video feed of the test subject. Carol gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh, god! Your wife … she was test subject nineteen?" It was a guess, but she'd bet anything she was right.

          Jenner nodded. "Yes. There was only a handful of us left. She was brilliant; always had been.  _She_  should have survived.  _She_ wouldn't have failed," he hissed bitterly. "It was my fault. I thought it had been properly restrained …" A sob tore free from his throat, and Carol laid a gentle hand on his arm, silently urging him to unburden his soul. "I'd stepped out for only a moment, and in the time I was gone, it broke free and had her … Oh, god, it had its teeth sunk deep into her shoulder. I was too late. I failed her."

          The pounding on the door ceased, and she could feel Daryl's gaze upon her. Everyone's gaze was upon her as the scientist told his story. She kept her voice low and even, a familiar feeling of discomfort settling over her. "Is that when she volunteered to be a test subject? So, you could save others where you couldn't save her?"

          The doctor nodded. "I can't do it without her. I don't want to. I just want the pain to go away."

          "Pain makes us stronger. We have to fight for anything worth having. Do you really think she'd want you to give up? What would she say if she knew you were waiting to die and determined to take us with you?"

          He glared at her angrily. "You know  _nothing_ about her!"

          Carol shot to her feet. "I know more than you think. From what you've told me, she valued life. I want a chance to watch my daughter grow up. I want a chance to see if what I feel for Daryl is more than friendship. I need to  _try!_  If she were here with you now, wouldn't you want the same? To spend every second with her? To fight with her at your side to survive and somehow find answers?"

          His expression was pained. "I'd give  _anything_ to have her back."

          Carol waved a hand in the direction of the group who were still arguing quietly or weeping. "Then don't tarnish her sacrifice by condemning us all. Please?"

          "There's no hope for you out there. You've seen it!" he argued.

          Rick ran a hand over his face, his eyes pleading as he approached the pair. "There's always hope. Give us a chance to find it."

          "Please," Carol said again, gripping his hand in both of hers.

          Jenner squeezed her hand and moved over to the console, swiping his security badge and entering the necessary commands to open the door. "I can't open the doors topside; they're locked down."

          The door lowered with a whoosh, and everyone sprang into motion. "Carol! Move your ass, woman!" Daryl yelled, slinging his pack and crossbow onto his back. Sophia shot across the ramp to his side, but Jenner still held tightly to Carol's hand.

          The scientist pulled her closer, and she had to fight back a rush of fear that he'd try to keep her there to die with him. But she was wrong. "We're all infected," he whispered urgently. "Whether we're bitten or die of something as mundane as a heart attack … we all turn."

          "Woman!"

          She felt as if she couldn't breathe.  _Why_  would he tell her that!? And one better … how was she going to tell the others? She was frozen in place, paralyzed with an all new fear.

          "Mama!" Sophia called, her voice joining with the chaos of everyone trampling up the ramp.

          "Merciful fuck! Woman, don't make me come get you!"

          Finally, Carol turned, shouldering her pack, and hurried to Daryl's side. He gave her a steely look as they ran for the elevators. "Wait! Where are Jacqui and Andrea?"

          "And Dale!?" Lori added, wide eyed and fearful.

          "They're staying," Shane said glumly.

          "What!?"

          Daryl dragged her back as she moved to step back out into the corridor. "Oh, hell no! You ain't goin' back for 'em. It's their choice, Carol."

          "But -" She stopped protesting as he pressed his brow to hers and pushed her back into the wall. She didn't even feel the quick ascent to the surface.

          "Breathe," he commanded, his warm breath fanning over her lips, his scent enveloping her. Butterflies took wing in her belly and chased away her fear, leaving no room for anything but him. "Deep breath. C'mon an' breathe for me. When we get out, I want your gun in hand. Y' take Soph an' y' run t' th' truck. Y' shoot anythin' that gets in your way. Y' hear me?"

          Carol nodded, her brow bumping into his as the elevator doors opened, and natural light flooded the compartment. She was calmer, though she could still taste the acrid twang of fear at the back of her tongue. Daryl would keep her safe, keep Sophia safe. They were only moments away from freedom, and it couldn't come fast enough for her.

          Daryl hurried off to help the others try to break the glass enclosing the lobby with a warning for her to stay put. He wouldn't put it past her to try to pull some noble stunt to save her friends who'd chosen to stay behind. He couldn't allow her to do it. He wasn't ready to lose her yet. He attacked the glass with a vengeance, cursing loudly when the axe rebounded back at him, much like it had done against the doors below. What T-Dog thought he would be able to do with a chair, he didn't know. He knew they were well and truly fucked when even Shane's shotgun proved useless.

          "Daryl!" Sophia cried, unzipping the outside flap of her pack and rummaging inside. "Think this'll work?"

          Rick's eyes grew wide as he joined them. "Where the hell did you get those?" he asked, staring down at the half dozen or so silver orbs in her bag.

          She shrugged. "Marty had them hidden in the back room. She said these were special order. When she explained how they worked, I figured they might come in handy. If we got outnumbered, we could use them as a distraction to get away." The girl wasn't at all pleased with the two men glaring at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Will it break the glass, so we can get out?"

          Daryl shook his head. "Least now I know why y' been guardin' that pack like it held th' lottery jackpot or somethin'." He took the grenade and pulled the pin with his teeth. "Always wanted t' do this … FIRE IN TH' HOLE!

          Rick grabbed Lori and Carl as Shane and T dove out of the way. As soon as the grenade left his hand, Daryl was shoving Sophia and Carol to the floor and covering them with his body. The blast was deafening, the heat singeing the ends of his hair, but he knew it was nothing compared to what was coming if they couldn't get a safe distance away from the building before the H.I.T.s detonated.

          His head swam, and he couldn't imagine Carol was faring any better. She looked dazed when he hauled himself off of her and checked quickly for injuries. Finding none, he gave both her and Sophia a push towards the gaping hole in what was once a very nice bank of windows. Rick wrapped one hand around the girl's waist and gave her a boost up and out. Daryl gave the former cop his best death glare as he reached out to help Carol.

          If she hadn't been so terrified, she probably would have grinned over his little display of protectiveness. She wouldn't call it jealousy … not when there wasn't any cause for it. She didn't hesitate. As soon as her feet hit the cobbled pavement, she drew her pistol and followed Sophia as she began to run. She could hear Daryl's heavier footsteps behind her, and his deep voice pitched higher as he urged her on. Lori and Carl were already climbing through the open door of the Winnebago. Shane took down a walker as T-Dog ran past him to the Cherokee.

          Sophia had barely pulled the door open before her mother was pushing her into the truck and onto the floor. Carol didn't have a choice. Daryl tossed the axe and his crossbow into the back along with their packs and dove across the seat, landing heavily atop Carol. She groaned as he squashed her sore ribs.

          He raised up slightly and pushed Sophia back down as she tried to rise. "Keep your head down!" He peeked over the steering wheel while one arm slipped around Carol's shoulders. She closed her eyes, her hands fisted in his shirt as she buried her face against his chest. "Carol … Dale an' Andrea … They made it! They changed their minds."

          "Jacqui?"

          His jaw tightened as he shook his head. He didn't have time to say anything else. Daryl could see the flames licking at the air inside the building from which they'd just fled. The earth rumbled, shaking the vehicles parked a safe distance away. He buried his face between the seat and Carol's shoulder, his arm covering both of their heads.

          Her scream was muffled against him as the CDC ignited, the blast sending shockwaves over a full city block. Sophia whimpered, tears rolling over her pale cheeks as Daryl asked if she were ok.

          Daryl cradled Carol's face between his large palms and breathed a sigh of relief. "Y' ok?"

          "Yeah …" she said. Her gun was still gripped tightly in her right hand - which was trapped against her stomach - and Daryl was crushing her bruised ribs. She was shaken and feeling the loss of her friend, but she was fine. They'd come away from yet another catastrophic event unscathed, the majority of their group intact. The two most important people in her life were safe and at her side. What more could she ask for?

          Sophia climbed up onto the seat to sit between her mother and Daryl. "What are we going to do now?"

          "It's going to be dark in a couple of hours, Daryl. We're pretty much in the same peril we were in yesterday when we arrived here," Carol said, watching through the windshield as Rick exited the RV looking shaken and clueless.

          "Well I sure as fuck ain't dependin' on him," Daryl growled, pointing a finger at their leader, "to get us where we need t' go."

          Carol looked over at the fuel gauge. "Do we have enough to get us someplace safe?"

          "Yeah. They can follow or go t' hell for all I care, but we ain't stayin' here."

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol had stood guard, covering Daryl as he'd divided their extra fuel between the vehicles. That had been over an hour ago, and now as they neared their destination, she began to recognize familiar landmarks from her trip there before. He was still in a pissy mood, she noted as she watched him silently brood from the driver's seat. Rick and Shane had argued over where they'd wanted to go next, Fort Benning being at the top of that list. Daryl had simply worked on refueling and ignored them before climbing back into the truck and moving to the front of the caravan, leaving them to follow or go their own way.

          He was sick of the squabbling and the two officer's bid for leadership over the group. Their supplies were depleted, and aside from the small amount of jerky and a few can goods stored in the bed of the truck, they were in dire straits. She was more than a little relieved when Marty's shop came into view.

          "Do you think she'll take us in for the night?" Carol asked quietly, her voice low so as not to disturb Sophia's sleeping form where she rested against Carol's shoulder.

          "She owes me," was all he said. The families had history, some good to go along with the bad. In many ways, Daryl thought of Martine as a sister … when she wasn't getting Merle in all sorts of trouble anyway. She wouldn't turn him away.

          He pulled the truck around to the back of the building and waved for the others following him to do the same. If there were other people in the area, he didn't want company. And that was for any reason. Carol roused Sophia and studied the tree line at the edge of the gravel lot. "Do you think she's even here? It looks deserted."

          "Why do I feel like we just ventured into the middle of a bad Scooby-Doo episode?" Sophia sighed, leaning forward to look through the windshield.

          Daryl snickered. "It ain't that bad, Soph. At least we ain't got some idiot running around in a ghost mask."

          "Glenn would probably do it if you asked nicely."

          Daryl glanced over at Carol, surprised at such a catty remark coming from her. "I can't believe you just said that."

          She grimaced. "I know that was mean. I'm sorry."

          "Naw, you're right. That boy'll do anythin'. Like he's lookin' for acceptance or somethin'."  _Takes one to know one,_ he thought as he opened the door and got out. "Y'all stay put while I have a look around. Th' jeep's gone, so I doubt Marty's here t' let us in."

          Rick got out of the Cherokee with T-Dog, and Shane climbed down out of the RV followed closely by Glenn. "Alright, Daryl …" Rick said, hands on his hips in one of his favorite cop stances. "What is this place?"

          Shane caressed the shotgun in his hands, but for once didn't argue when his former partner took the lead. Daryl didn't care one way or the other. "This place belongs to a friend," he explained. "We'll be safe here until we can decide what we want to do next." When Rick didn't look convinced he added, "D'you really think I woulda brought my girls here if I wasn't sure?"

          Daryl didn't wait for the others, his angry stride taking him to the front of the store to see if it had been left open. He was already growing tired of Rick and Shane questioning his every move. They hadn't done such a great job so far. It was time to stop arguing and do some better planning if they were going to get anywhere.  _The things I put up with for that woman_ , he thought with a shake of his head. He might not like it, but he'd do it if it made her happy and didn't threaten her safety or Sophia's.

          He found the front locked up tight and from what he could see of the windows, they were still boarded from the inside. "The roof it is," he mumbled more to himself than the men trailing behind him. His piercing blue gaze narrowed in on Rick. "Y' up for a climb? We gotta go in up top."

          T gave him a dubious look. "Last I checked, you weren't Spider-Man, Dixon."

          Daryl rolled his eyes and went to the side of the building closest to where they'd parked. He yanked on a rope concealed by a drain pipe, and the ladder came tumbling down, nearly hitting Shane in the head.

          "I'll take Rick through th' hatch an' we'll open the front door. Get everyone t' grab their stuff an' be ready t' come inside," he said. His gaze shifted to Shane. "Tell Carol t' keep her gun out, but don't fire unless she absolutely has t’. Don't want th' sound t' carry an’ draw any walkers this way."

          He shot up the rope ladder, Rick hurrying behind him. The former deputy was panting from the exertion as he swung his leg over the ledge and pulled himself over. Apparently, his long hospital stay had done him no favors. "What is this place?" he asked again. "Who puts a hidden entrance on a roof?"

          Daryl snorted. "Man, what y' don't know about people like me an' my brother could fill a book. Our friend Martine an' her family are survivalists. We'll be safe here for a few days, and we can stock up on supplies while we lay low."

          Rick stared down into the darkened hole once Daryl had opened the hatch. "They won't mind coming back to find us all here?" he asked, shining the beam of a flashlight down so the redneck could see where he was going.

          "She ain't gonna mind," Daryl growled. Again with the questions, but at least these last few were plausible concerns. Rick didn't just have his wife and son to worry about, but the entire group. He was happy he only had Carol and Sophia to be concerned about. They were more than enough, and he was glad the role of leader had never been offered to him.

          When he reached the bottom of the wrought iron ladder, he pulled the crossbow from his back and settled it comfortably on his arm. He dug his own flashlight from his pocket and shined it over the showroom. The place was deserted. Not even a mouse was scampering about. "All clear," he called out to Rick. "Let's see about gettin' those doors open."

          He was right to think Marty had gone out from the roof hatch. Two large two by fours were nailed securely over the double doors. A quick sweep found a crowbar not too far away on a shelf, and he and Rick were able to pry them loose intact to be used again once everyone was inside.

          Andrea was first through the door, her lip curled into a grimace. She'd been wearing that look a lot since she'd lost her sister. Poor Carl. He looked as though Lori were trying to strangle him. She was really going to have to ease off the boy one day soon. Dale, T-Dog and Glenn just looked happy to be inside.

          Shane came in behind Sophia and Carol and sneered openly. "What, you expect us to be safe in a store? If any walkers catch our scent, they gonna make quick work of the windows. I don't care how well they're boarded up."

          Daryl gnashed his teeth and bowed up like a scalded cat. "Y' ain't gotta stay, asshole." He glanced down at the hand Carol planted in the center of his chest, his body tensing as he met her gaze. He forced himself to relax. "Rick, I'll take first watch with Sophia once me an' Carol figure out sleeping arrangements for everybody."

          "That's an excellent idea," she agreed. "Then we can see what Marty has in the freezer I can fix for dinner. I'm sure everyone is famished by now."

          "I'll help you, Carol," Glenn offered.

          "Thank you."

          Daryl proceeded everyone to the stairs which led to the bunker and flipped the main power to the generator system Martine's family had installed. Digger had used three different contractors to install the solar panels on the roof and wire the bunker to the breaker box before plugging into the 'guardian'. Daryl and Merle had even done some of the work in their spare time. The only separate generator which remained switched on was the one powering the freezers.

          Carol wanted to go straight to the storeroom, but Daryl kept her with him, not wanting her to venture off just yet. "Where y' think we should put everyone?" he asked, deferring to her judgment. He'd be the first one to admit he was no good at such things.

          "What do we have available in the way of beds?" she asked, adjusting the pack on her shoulder.

          He chewed for a minute on his thumb. "Marty's room has a queen size bed. There's two sets of bunk beds in both Digger and Randy's rooms, a king size in the old man's room and then there's the couches and recliners in the den."

          Carol's eyes widened. She definitely hadn't had a good look around last time she'd been there if she'd overlooked so much. "That's great. More than enough room for all of us." She mulled it over for a moment. "How about we take the big bed in her father's room … that way Sophia can sleep with us?"

          Daryl shrugged. "S'okay with me." He didn't care as long as wherever they bedded down, Carol would be curled up next to him. "We can give Rick an' Lori Marty's room then. The rest can divvy up the bunk beds."

          Carol gave him a reassuring smile and relieved him of his pack to put it away in their room. "You sure you want Sophia on watch with you?"

          He sighed wearily. "Yeah, she needs t' learn. And she's about th' only person besides y' I can stand right now."

          She reached out and rested a comforting hand on his arm. "Don't be like that. I know it's hard, but we all have to do our best to get along."

          "Tell that t' th' Bobsy twins in there," he muttered under his breath. "Soph! Where y' at, girl?"

          Carol peered around him. "I think Carl went into the den … maybe she's with him?"

          Sophia appeared, running out of Marty's room where Lori had just entered. Her little face was flushed with excitement. "Daryl! Daryl, I found something! You gotta see this!"

 


	23. Chapter 23

 

          Daryl shared a puzzled look with Carol before they both hurried down the hallway to Marty's room. He really hoped the girl hadn't found some sex toy that he'd have to explain. Oh, hell no! That shit wasn't happening. What went on between that woman and her partners was no one's business but her own, and he couldn't see himself living through the embarrassment of educating a twelve-year-old girl on the depravities of the world. Not to mention … Carol would hand him his balls. He winced visibly, not knowing what to expect.

          She beamed at him when he entered the room. In one hand she held a broken cuff - which he was certain belonged to the set they'd left on a rooftop in Atlanta - and in the other, a very familiar penlight with the initials M.D. scratched into the handle. It meant the world to his brother, simply because Daryl had bought it for him as a birthday gift. It was one of those little multi-tool things with a penlight, screwdriver, bottle opener and nail file. It wasn't much, but Merle had always liked it.

          "Don't you see," Sophia gushed. "He was here. He came to Marty for help."

          "Daryl, look," Carol said, pointing to the trashcan next to the bed. It was full of bloody bandages. "He must've hurt himself getting out of the cuffs."

          Daryl remembered the broken screwdriver and mangled chain which had connected the cuffs and could only imagine what had happened. There was no doubt, though, that Merle had injured himself. "Well he can't be too bad off if he ain't here."

          "And there's this too," Sophia said, holding out a folded piece of paper with Daryl's name scrawled across the front.

          He looked down at the chicken scratch which could only be his brother's sorry excuse for handwriting and reached out a tentative hand to take the note from the girl. Carol gave him a nod of encouragement, and he slowly opened it, not sure if he even wanted to know what it said.

_Lil brother -_

_I don't know if'n you'll even get this, but I wanted y' t' know I ain't dead. Sorry t' disappoint. Them bastards who left me there are gonna be mighty pissed, I'm sure. Got more than a few words fer Officer Friendly._

_Marty patched me up, but we cain't stay. Her brothers are missin' and now I owe her, so I gotta help 'er look. I'm gonna swing back by the quarry t' see if'n yer still there instead of back at th' bunker tryin' t' read this._

_I'll catch up t' y'. Have y' ever known me not t' find y'? Tell Peach t' stay safe. I'll kick yer pansy ass if'n y' let sum'thin' happen t' her. Keep yer head up, Darylina._

_-MD_

          "He's alive," he breathed, letting relief wash through him. "Digger an' Randy done gone missin' and he's tryin' t' help Marty find them. Said he'll catch up t' us."

          Carol let her own relief show as Sophia bounced on the balls of her feet. It was the happiest she'd seen the girl in days. "See, baby, I told you he'd be alright."

          "I know, Mama, but now we have proof."

          Carol leaned down and pressed a kiss to her daughter's brow. "I'm going to see about dinner. You mind Daryl while you're on watch."

          Daryl watched Carol leave the room and then was nearly knocked on his ass as Sophia threw herself at him, her spindly arms wrapping around his waist. "Th' hell!?"

          Sophia grinned sheepishly and let him go. "Sorry … I'm just really glad he's ok. D'you think he'll come back here? Can we wait a few days?"

          Daryl frowned, not wanting to get her hopes up. There was no sure way to tell if Merle would come back to the bunker or how long it would take to find Marty's brothers. "A few days, I guess." It was all he could promise her at the moment.

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl drew deeply on his cigarette and slouched down on the side of the roof. It was quiet - had been quiet for a while - but he wanted to get his shift done early. He had his reasons. He wanted everyone to get done with all their bitching and complaining before he had to go down there and listen to it. He wanted to go down and have dinner with Carol and Sophia and then fall into a nice deep sleep for a couple of hours. Was that too much to ask? Of course, it was. Instead he had to listen to Rick and Shane argue about where they'd go next, who got the bigger bedroom, what they'd do if the owner came back or whatever else they could piss and moan about.

           He exhaled a cloud of smoke and watched Sophia make another turn along the perimeter of the roof. She was taking her watch very seriously for a twelve-year-old pre-adolescent. It wasn't fair to the children, having to grow up so fast.

          She settled along the edge next to him, and he had to willfully force himself not to scoot away from her. It was just when Sophia turned that wide eyed blue stare on him - much like her mother - it felt like she was attempting to make off with his soul. "Got somethin’ on your mind?" he asked softly, eyeing her with a sideways glance.

          Sophia shrugged, letting her fingers caress the ebony finish of her bow. "Perhaps. You feel like talkin'?"

          He looked blankly at her. What were they supposed to talk about? She was twelve, for fuck's sake. If it wasn't about her bow or watch or survival training, what could they possibly have to discuss? "'Bout what?"

          "Mama," she said matter-of-factly. "How long have you liked her?"

          Daryl frowned. "Y' know how long I -"

          Sophia shook her head. "Not as a friend, silly. I meant how long have you  _like_  liked her."

          He shot up off the ledge and stalked away, doing his own sweep. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck as he felt her gaze follow him. He figured if he ignored her, she might give up on her line of questioning. Not her, though. Sophia had patience few adults possessed.

          "It's ok if you do, y'know."

          One thing he'd found when dealing with the Peletier women was he was shit when it came to conversation. If he wasn't tongue-tied like an untried youth, he nearly always lost his temper. "You're imaginin' things, kid, seein' stuff that ain't there," he scoffed.

          She chewed thoughtfully at her cuticle. Dear Christ, now she was picking up his bad habits. "Really?" she asked with an innocent smile. "So, that wasn't you with her in the shower last night?"

          He gaped at her, stunned. "What!?"

Sophia tilted her head to the side, her smile growing wider. "Don't try to pretend either. I saw  _two_  bodies behind the glass when I poked my head through the door. I know it was you."

          He tried to think of a lie, but came up empty. An excuse? One perhaps she'd believe?  _Fuckkkkk!_ "I was drunk, and … um …."

          "Just happened to fall into the shower with her?" she giggled.

          "It wasn't like that," he protested, feeling the need to defend Carol's honor. "She hurt herself on the soap dispenser thing and I was trying to see if she was bleeding or not. I wasn't bein' a pervert jus' tryin' t' see her naked!" He sighed mournfully. "Then I saw her scars."

          Sophia grimaced and balled her little fists in her lap. "We're lucky my dad didn't kill her. Was she upset? That you saw?"

          Daryl shook his head and sat down once more at her side. "Not after I showed 'er mine. Yer mama's not th' only one t' have 'em."

          She cast him a quizzical look. "Did you tell her you love her?"

          "No!"

          "Why the hell not?" Sophia arched a brow at him. "What's the problem? You love her; she loves you … it's really not that hard to figure out what comes next. Or at least that's what happens in those cheesy romance novels Mama reads." She fluttered her lashes and made kissy sounds. He looked horrified.

          "Y' better stay outta y' mama's books," he hissed. "And what goes on between me an' her ain't none o' your business."

          Sophia sighed dramatically. "I guess I should be talking to her about all this instead, huh?"

          "No!"

          "Why not?"

          "Jus' because. I swear y' can be as manipulative as m' brother," he grumbled. Gawd, what was he going to do with the minx? "Carol thinks I was too drunk t' remember what happened last night, an' if y' don't mind, I'd like t' keep it that way."

          Sophia gaped at him. "But why? If you care for her -"

          "She don't want me, Soph. I'm jus' her friend, s'all. Leave it alone ok?" he murmured in a dejected tone which brooked no objection. She could've sat up there all night and spent her time better chatting up the moon.

          Merle was right. They were both too stubborn to see what was right in front of them.

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol made herself eat the food she'd prepared. She'd found some ground venison mixed with pork sausage in the freezer and made hamburger steak for their supper. It had been easy and delicious even if she had to use dehydrated onions instead of sweet Vidalias. Instant potatoes weren't so bad when topped with the rich brown gravy covering the steaks and canned green beans had never tasted so good seasoned with crispy bacon. Marty was a treasure and she just hoped she'd get the chance to thank her for her hospitality.

          Yet no matter how good the food was, she couldn't get Jenner's last little bombshell out of her mind. How was she supposed to tell them? They had every right to know, and keeping things from them was only going to make the existing animosity between them worse. Was it something she wanted the children to know? Should she talk to Daryl about it first? He listened to her, treated her as if her thoughts and opinions were important. She'd always been told how to act, to think, to submit, and she had to admit she liked the way he treated her. With respect. But would the others be so quick to believe her?

          T-Dog and Glenn were on watch after having eaten, and everyone else was taking turns in the two bathrooms. Carl and Sophia were quietly discussing what DVD they wanted to watch before bed. It would be the perfect time to slip off with Daryl and have a private conversation, to get his advice before she let the cat out of the bag.

          "Why ain't y' eatin'?" he asked around a mouth full of potatoes. "Food's prob'ly stone cold by now."

          Her lips twisted into a grimace as she stared down at her plate. "I need to talk to you about something, Daryl … before I decide to tell the others."

          He set his empty plate on the coffee table and took hers to set atop it, seeing as how she wasn't likely to eat anymore. "What's wrong? Did somethin' happen while I was on watch?" He was fairly calm. He didn't think Carol would bring up what had gone on between them in the middle of the living room where just anyone could listen in. At least he hoped not.

          "Remember when Dr. Jenner held me back?" she asked, staring down at her fidgeting hands. "He told me something, and I need to tell everyone, but I don't know how."

          Daryl took her in, her bloodless face, how she wouldn't meet his eyes, the fidgeting she did when she was trying to hide her fear. "Don't be scared, Carol. It's jus' me. Y'know y' can tell me anythin' an' I ain't gonna judge y'." It surprised her when he pulled her closer into his body where they sat side by side on the couch. "There … now ain't nobody can hear whatcha gotta say."

          Carol sighed, reveling in the closeness he shared with her. He wrapped her in warmth and chased away most of her fears. "He … he told me we all turn."

          Daryl shot her a puzzled frown. "Well, yeah, we already know that. Y' get bit an' y' turn."

          She shook her head, her wide cerulean eyes rising to meet his steady gaze. "No … he said it doesn't matter if we're bitten or not. When we die, we turn."

          "Shit," he breathed, raking a hand through his shaggy hair. "Why th' hell would he tell y' that!?"

          "I don't know … unless it’s true," she whispered, looking around them to see if anyone had overheard, but the others were all involved now in choosing a DVD. It had been too long since they'd had even a semblance of normal. "Maybe he was trying to warn us? We have a better chance of surviving if we're armed with knowledge which can help us."

          "Well I coulda gone on dumb, ignorant and stupid a while longer," he grumbled.

          Carol bit her lip in indecision. "Do you think we should tell them?"

          "Oh, yeah," he drawled sarcastically. "It'll give Rick an' Shane somethin' else t' argue about. Should be loads o' fun."

 

*.*.*

 

          "He could've been lying," Lori argued. "He'd already tried to lock us in with him to die."

          Daryl sat quietly on the couch, listening to the group discuss the news Jenner had given Carol before they'd left the CDC. The only thing holding him in place was Carol's soft hand twined in his and her head resting against his shoulder. She was calmer now after telling everyone, and she was right. It was information which needed to be shared. She couldn't have in good conscience kept it from them.

          Rick pulled his wife back against him and wrapped an arm about her thin shoulders. "Why would he lie? The man was fixing to die, Lori. He didn't have a reason to lie to us."

          "Maybe he was trying to scare us," Shane offered with a shrug.

          Dale leaned his head back against the loveseat he shared with Andrea. "Whatever reason Jenner may've had to tell Carol; I don't think he was lying. I believe he thought this was the last bit of information he could provide in our bid for survival. We need to take it at face value."

          "Yeah, but -"

          Daryl cut Shane off. He was tired and aggravated, and all their blathering was grating on his last nerve. "But nothin'! Man, the only way we gonna prove 'im wrong is for one of us t' off themselves. Y' wanna volunteer? I know I don't have a problem if y' wanna sacrifice yerself for the good o' th' group. Carol? Y' gotta problem with Shane offin' 'imself?"

          "Daryl, stop," she chuckled. "No one is offing themselves to test the theory. But I for one do  _not_  want to become one of those things … Ever!"

          T-Dog and Glenn, having been pulled from watch to hear the news, both shook their heads. "I don't either," Glenn said firmly.

          "Y'all best look like promising to put me down before I ever get a chance to turn into one of those geeks," T intoned.

          Sophia scooted back against the couch where she sat with Carl on the floor, and rested her head on Daryl's knee. "So, we make a pact. If anyone dies, we make sure they stay dead. For the good of the group."

The others looked solemn, but determined. "I agree with Sophia," Rick spoke up. It was the first time the girl had smiled at him since he'd met her. "For the good of the group."

          "Can we watch our movie now?" Carl whined.

 

*.*.*

 

          Two movies later … Daryl's face scrunched up in disgust as he stared at the TV screen. How could they've gone from a nauseatingly cute tale about a little clownfish and then a movie about superheroes to a zombie horde who had a group of yahoos trapped in an underground facility? He was beginning to question Sophia's taste in movies. "What th' hell is this? What happened t' the one with th' big green dude?"

          Sophia grinned up at him where she sat on his left beneath a thin blanket. "That one ended while you were making more popcorn," she explained. "This one's about a virus that spreads through this facility called a hive. Kinda like it was at the CDC, and they have to try and get out before time runs out. You ever seen it?"

          He reached for another handful of buttery goodness, trying not to move around too much and wake Carol where she slept against his shoulder. He'd tried to get her to go to bed when she'd started nodding off halfway into the first movie, but she'd wanted to stay there on the couch with her little family. She'd been more exhausted than she'd thought though.

          "No, I ain't never seen it. Ain't there enough horrors in th' world without havin' t' watch it on TV?" Not that he cared what was on the screen. He was much too happy just laying back in the recliner built into the couch with Carol nestled into his side. "This crap's gonna give y' nightmares," he complained.

          Carl let out a loud snore where he dozed with his head on his father's lap. Lori had passed out some time ago in the crook of his arm, and the poor man was trapped beneath them. Rick chuckled. "I'm glad Lori fell asleep before they put on this little gem. She hates horror movies."

          Everyone else had gone to bed, and Daryl didn't know how much longer his stamina was going to hold. Shane and Andrea were next on watch, and Rick and Dale after that. He should have plenty of time to sleep before he'd be called on again. It couldn't be good for Carol to sleep scrunched up on the couch either. "Y' stayin' in here with th' kids?" he asked Rick. Sophia would probably stay up all night watching movies if he didn't put a stop to it.

          Rick shrugged and looked down at his wife and son. "I'll probably try to get them to bed when this one is over."

          Daryl wiped his greasy hand on his pants and gave the girl a stern look. "Y' can finish th' movie, but then y' get your butt t' bed. And don't let me find out y' went upstairs without a grownup. Your mama'd have both our asses."

          Sophia nodded and turned her gaze back towards the TV. "G'night, Daryl."

          He let the leg of the recliner down and scooted to the edge. His arm was trying to go to sleep before the rest of him thanks to the weight of Carol's head against his shoulder. It was a good pain, though, one he was coming to associate with his woman. He slipped an arm beneath her legs and hefted her onto his lap to assure his grip. She didn't stir. Parts of his own body applauded as he breathed in her sweet fragrance. She must've availed herself of the shower while he'd been on watch.

          Realizing he couldn't delay any longer, he stood up carefully with her cradled in his arms and made a silent trek to their appointed bedroom. It felt strange being in old man Comeaux's personal space, but it wasn't as if he'd be coming back to claim it. He stood next to the bed for a long moment, simply gazing down on her upturned face, reveling in the feeling of her body pressed tightly to his before laying her gently atop the sheet.

          Daryl watched as she curled up on her side, a frown forming between her perfectly sculpted brows. He shucked off his shirt and kicked off his shoes before joining her and pulling the blanket up over her shoulder. Still, she continued to frown in her sleep. He wondered what demons she might be battling in slumber. He hoped they'd go away before they brought on a full-blown nightmare.

          The ticking of a battery-operated alarm clock was the only sound to be heard over his unsteady breathing and her soft snuffles as he laid on his side to face her. He knew he should try to sleep, just as he knew he wouldn't be able to as long as she was making that little sound of distress. He scooted closer and reached out for her hand resting between them. He brought it up and pressed a feather light kiss to her fingers, his hooded gaze watching as her features relaxed. The gesture eased the knot of tension in his own chest, to see his touch bring her comfort.

          Carol inhaled deeply, a breathy sound of relief. Her fingers tightened on his, and she used his grip on her to pull herself closer, to fit herself against his lean lines as if she'd been made to rest there. "Daryl …" She breathed, caught somewhere between reality and the realm of dreams.

          The hunter's eyes cracked open as her sweet breath fanned hotly over his lips, still minty from the toothpaste she'd used. All thought of sleep vanished in a heartbeat to be replaced by a frenetic hum of sensation just beneath his skin. She was so warm and soft and lovely, and he couldn't quell the desire beginning to race through his veins.

          He knew what delights were hidden by the little cotton sleep shorts and tank top she wore. He recalled every detail with crystal clarity, the firm globes of her perfect breasts with their dusky nipples, the sweet indention of her waist, the smooth curve of her hips …

          His hand traced the outline of her hip atop the blanket and slipped around behind her of its own accord to palm one tantalizing cheek of her glorious ass, pulling her tightly against his straining erection. She whimpered softly, her breathing picking up to match pace with his. When had he lost control over his body?  _Gawd! I'm a fuckin' pervert takin' advantage of her while she's sleepin',_ he groaned inwardly.  _Why's she gotta feel so damn good?_

          Carol's fingers twisted in his hair, her nails scratching languorously against his sensitive scalp. This was ok, right? He chewed anxiously at the tender inside of his lip as he waged war with his conscience. He wouldn't even be debating it if she didn't mean so much to him. He'd simply take what he wanted and find the sweet relief he so desperately craved. But this was his Carol, the only woman alive who'd ever had a chance of claiming his heart. It was hers for the taking, he was coming to realize whether he wanted to or not. She'd wormed her way inside his head, sunk her nails into his heart and latched onto his very soul. All he could do was sit back and hope she didn't fling it all back into his face and call him stupid for thinking she could ever want him.

          Her fingers tightened in his hair, and he couldn't fight off the shiver of pleasure spiraling uncontrollably up his spine. "Fuckkkkk, woman," he growled lowly, his lips scant inches from the petal softness of her mouth. It would be so easy to give in; to finally see what ecstasy he could find in her kiss.

          And while he was busy contemplating everything wrong about what he wanted to do to her, with her and for her, she mewled impatiently and closed the distance between them. He swore his heart stuttered to a screeching halt in that one perfect moment when her lips brushed his. It was innocence and chaste longing and fire and a whirlwind of sensation all rolled into the most intense bout of lust he'd ever felt.  _Fuckin' hellfire!_

          He was afraid to move, terrified to wake her, but at the same time he was scared not to. What if this was his only chance? Would it be worth the risk of her anger? Or having her distrust him?  _No!_  And for once his entire being was in harmony. His heart and mind weren't at odds. "Carol …" he gasped, having made up his mind to wake her. But she seemed caught in whatever visions her subconscious had conjured.

          She took advantage of his open mouth and nipped down on his lower lip. Her hand curled over the side of his neck, her fingers digging into the tendon which strained beneath his skin and she sucked gently, her own moan rising to meet his.  _She's not asleep. She's awake an' she wants me …this …whatever this is, she wants it too,_ he told himself.  _Jus' a little more an' I'll let 'er go._

          "Mmmm, Daryl," she murmured, pulling him towards her until he was nearly lying half atop her and then pushing him away in an effort to wrest control of the kiss away from him. " _Mine …"_

 _Oh, gawd, she did not jus' claim me!_  What the hell was going on in her head? He couldn't even pawn her imaginings off on some dream lover, not when it was his name on her lips. Who knew she could be such a passionate little spitfire in her sleep? He shivered. What would she be like when awake and in full control of her faculties. He was seconds away from losing it and she'd done nothing but kiss him. Oh, he was so far in over his head he was never going to see the surface. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to.

          Her hot little tongue slithered past his teeth to duel with his, and he arched into her. He gave it all and surrendered to the onslaught of her sweet mouth. If she moved her hands away from his chest and let them venture lower, he knew he'd embarrass himself. He couldn't find it in himself to care.

          Carol moaned again and then sighed. Her body shifted as she nestled down into his warmth and then she was still. Daryl gaped at her, his mouth hanging open. "Aw, hell no! You've gotta be shittin' me," he growled. He'd heard of sleepwalking and he'd heard of talking in your sleep. Hell, Merle had been known to have entire conversations in his sleep and not remember a damn thing the next day … but this here … what the fuck was he even supposed to call this?  _Sleep fuckin'?_  And how was he supposed to broach the subject with her without sounding like a stark raving lunatic?

          Whatever he decided, it wasn't helping the problem in his pants. He scowled down at the tent his erection was making under the blanket.  _So much for me gettin' any sleep._ It didn't help any that he could hear his brother's amused laughter echoing through his head. He eased himself out from under Carol's slumbering form and grabbed some clean clothes from his pack. One of the few times he'd likely have a hot shower available and he needed an arctic chill.

 


	24. Chapter 24

 

          Carol made a grumbling noise as she fought her way past the veil back into the land of consciousness. She'd dreamed ceaselessly throughout the night, one disturbing world after another. In one, Sophia had been lost and no matter how much Daryl and Merle had searched for her, they’d never been able to find her. Then it had been her who'd been lost, always searching for a way back to Daryl. Just as she'd had hope, when her hand had been there to grasp his, she'd been yanked away, first by Ed, then later by walkers. When she'd thought she was doomed to eternal damnation, the dreams had changed. When she'd been ready to give up and succumb to despair, he'd come for her.

          Daryl had come for her and the dreams had changed again. She could feel the blood rush to flood her face as she recalled the sweet heat of his kiss. It had seemed so real, his soft hair sliding through her fingers, his slightly chapped lips fitting so perfectly with hers, the gentle nip of his teeth and the hot slide of his tongue … She could recall every minute detail with crystal clarity. After the demons chasing her through her nightmares, his amorous attentions had been just what she'd needed.

          She groaned. How was she ever going to face him without a shit-ton of guilt evident in her eyes? Weren't dreams supposed to be an extension of one's innermost desires? If that were true, she wasn't going to be able to deny it any longer. She wanted more, though she wasn't sure she'd be able to have it. It was no longer enough for him to just be her friend and protector. She wanted a chance to love him.

          Carol felt the sting of unshed tears behind her eyes. Daryl didn't want her that way – leastways not when he was sober – and it was going to be unbearable to feel so deeply for him and not have him return those feelings. And what if the things Ed had done to her had left her scarred where she couldn't have a physical relationship with Daryl? What a coil. She pried her eyes open and sniffed quietly. Sophia slept to her right, sprawled across the mattress with her head buried beneath the pillow, and Carol was turned facing her. Her brow scrunched. This wasn't usually how she woke in the mornings. Normally, she'd find herself plastered, like a second skin, to Daryl's back, her face buried in the warm flesh of his neck, hand over his heart.

          Carol glanced down at herself as she took stock of her limbs.  _Oh!_   _This is new …_  Her head was pillowed on his outstretched arm, and he'd molded himself to  _her_  back. She lifted her head to peer at him over her shoulder and shivered as his scruff abraded the sensitive spot beneath her left ear. Another mental image of her dream chose that moment to reassert itself, and she felt it all the way to her core. She wanted to press her thighs together to relieve some of the tension building within her, but his legs were too entangled with hers. She would never be able to escape his grasp without waking him. Did she really want to see him rebuild his walls to hide from her again?

          Carol tried to relax back into his embrace, to enjoy the intimacy of his touch for a little longer. She knew she should wake him, but when might she get another chance to have him hold her like this? It felt exquisitely good to be so close to him, to have his bare chest pressed into her back. It was then she noticed her tank top had ridden up to just beneath her breasts, and his hot hand was splayed against the smooth skin of her belly. Her pearly teeth sank into her lower lip, but she wasn't able to quell the tiny whimper which made its way up and out of her throat.

          His hand rubbed absently, causing her back to arch and her hips to roll. She could feel him harden where his cock was nestled against the cleft of her ass. Oh, this was a dangerous game she was playing, but it was one she wanted to win. But how could she if no one would tell her the rules?

          Daryl growled lowly against her ear and she let out a shuddering breath. Was he awake? she wondered. He rubbed his scruff against her shoulder and sighed, his hot breath sending a wave of goosebumps erupting over her arms. His forearm tightened around her waist and his chest rumbled again as he pulled her back into him.

 _Lower …Lower …Lower …For the love of Christ, let him move that hand just a little lower!_  She was going to spontaneously combust at any second … Her eyes grew incredibly huge as they flew open to find her daughter staring back at her with a curious look of askance.

          "What're y'all doing over there?" Sophia asked in a sleepy tone.

          Thank god they were under their own blanket, Carol thought as she blushed a startling shade of puce. "Nothing," Carol mumbled.

          Daryl took one look at Sophia's knowing gaze and Carol's guilt-ridden expression and yanked the covers over his head. There was no way he could retreat to the bathroom and have the girl get a view of his raging hard on. Why had he only worn his boxers to bed after his shower?

          Sophia didn't look convinced. "Uh huh … that what you're goin' with?" She shook her head and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was nearly seven. "I'll go start pulling stuff for breakfast while you two decide … whatever."

          "Sophia!" Carol gasped.

          She crawled out of bed and pulled a cardigan on over her pajamas. "What?"

          "Y' sure that ain't Merle?" came Daryl's muffled retort. "She sounds jus' like th' fucker."

          Sophia giggled as she slipped out of the room to start the morning meal and find Carl to keep her company. She couldn't wait to find out what Daryl would have her doing that day and she wanted an early start. She gave them one last annoyed look and shook her head, wondering if they'd ever stop being so stubborn and admit they loved each other.

          Carol closed her eyes, the breath catching painfully in her chest as the door closed behind her daughter. Now that they were alone, she fully expected Daryl to run from her … in every way possible. He'd retreat from her physically  _and_ especially emotionally. He was going to pull away and all the progress they'd made so far in their relationship would have to begin again. It was all she could do not to weep for the loss. He would … yank her back under the blankets with him and cover her with his deliciously warm body.  _Wait! What!?_

          "Let's go back t' sleep," he mumbled against the crook of her neck. "We was sleepin' good before th' little minx decided it was time t' get up. Let somebody else cook breakfast and babysit th' moron twins."

 _He's not running!_  A hysterical giggle bubbled out of her throat. "You want to shirk our duty to do  _what_  exactly?" she whispered nervously. She still hadn't a clue as to what was going on, and he was avoiding eye contact like the plague. "Daryl?"

          He sighed as she trailed her hand over his arm from shoulder to wrist. She had no idea the effect she had on him. He wondered what would happen if he pushed the envelope. "Jus' lay here an' snuggle with m' wife," he chuckled with a teasing smirk.

          She mustered up what she hoped was a convincing smile. "Would you be serious?"

          He buried his face deeper into the curve of her neck, so she couldn't see the disappointment prevalent in his eyes. "We've had so much shit thrown at us lately, don't know which way is up." He tightened his arms around her. "S'this ok?"

          "I like it," she assured him a little breathlessly, stunned he was giving so much of himself. "I … I'm not used to a soft touch, Daryl. You know that."

          "I'm not either, but I like th' way y' feel against me," he admitted. It was so much easier talking to her when he didn't have to look in her eyes. He didn't have to be afraid she'd reject him if he didn't have to see it. He knew it was ridiculous to think that way, but love, kindness, tenderness … Those feelings had been beaten out of him at a young age. And though he longed to feel them again, he was afraid. He just knew he couldn't let her - like so many things he'd once cared for in his life - slip through his fingers. "I ain't gonna hurt y', woman. I'm not Ed."

          Carol eased back so she could catch his eye, still wary, still waiting for it to be a big joke. How many times had she had to listen to Ed tell her no one would ever want her? His smoky blue gaze was fraught with anxiety, but she could see his need to have her accept him. "I know you're nothing like him. I … What do you want from me, Daryl?" she whispered desperately, confusion darkening her features.

          His heart ached for her. How could she have suffered more than he had under Jackson's cruel hand? To be so damaged and still the loveliest soul he'd ever met? "Jus' you. Don't want nothing y' ain't already given me, woman. And I ain't gonna lie t' y'. I like this here," he nodded to their entwined limbs. "I like knowin' y' gonna be all soft and sweet after a bad day. I like knowin' y' gonna be there if I have a nightmare. And y' know I'll be here for y' too. But I think what I like best is when y' kiss me in your sleep."

          Carol gasped, her fingertips pressing hard against her lips. "I did no such thing!"

          He gave her a sideways glance. "Did too! 'Bout ripped my hair out an' stuck your tongue down m' throat."

          "I didn't … I promise I didn't! It was a dream," she breathed, mortified by his claim. The dream had been as vivid as the ones to precede it, but that's all it had been … a dream. "Oh, god!"

          "Y' really don't remember? Or y' just don't wanna think y' stooped low enough t' kiss a filthy Dixon?" he asked bitterly. What else was he to think from her horrified expression? She didn't want him. He was crazy to have even thought …

          Her arms wound around his neck, pulling him back into her as her lips found his. She trembled, having him so close, his lean lines pressing into her soft womanly curves. He was unresponsive at first, not wanting to scare her with the wealth of emotion coursing through him. No one had ever made him feel like that before. But then he couldn't hold back any longer and let his tongue trace over the seam of her petal soft mouth, light as a feather until she opened for him. Just a taste before he pulled away to judge her reaction.

          His heart sank. Her lip trembled, her eyes were misty, and her nose was red.  _Great job, asshole,_  he berated himself. "I'm sorry!"

          "Daryl, no!" Carol reached for him as he shot up out of the bed and hastily grabbed up his clothes. "Daryl!" She called after him again, but he wouldn't stop, stomping out of the room without a backward glance, his face engulfed in flames of shame. "Daryl, wait!"

          Carol beat her fists against the cool sheets and snarled out a curse of frustration. This is what she'd been afraid of all along. Why was nothing ever easy for them? Well she wasn't going to let him run this time. She didn't even bother with dressing, but simply pulled one of his button ups - thankfully there were a few left which he hadn't ripped off the sleeves - over her pajamas, and bolted out the door.

          A chorus of 'good morning' greeted her, but it only grated on her already frazzled nerves. At least Lori had stepped in to help Sophia with breakfast and Andrea was fiddling with the coffee maker. "Hey, sleepyhead, have some coffee," her friend said with a wide smile. "Breakfast will be ready soon."

          "Did you see where Daryl went?" she snapped.

          Andrea's brows shot up at Carol's tone. "Trouble in paradise? He didn't look too happy when he stormed through here."

          Lori glared at the blonde. "He went up on the roof with Rick. Carol, honey, are you ok?"

          "Fine! Just need to clear up a little misunderstanding," she explained quickly.

          "You want me to go get him?" Sophia offered.

          "No, baby," Carol shook her head. "I doubt he'll come down for either of us, but I need to try."

          "But the hatch!"

 

*.*.*

 

          "You sure you're ok?" Rick asked for the third time.

          "I swear y' ask me that one more time, Grimes, and I'ma put a bolt in yer ass!" Daryl snarled as he continued to pace the perimeter of the roof. He had enough going on in his head without needing to hear well-meaning advice from Officer Friendly. He knew Rick was trying to help, but Daryl was just too pissed off to listen.

          He'd fucked up. He hadn't even been trying to mess things up and he'd done it anyway. He'd made her cry … Something he'd sworn never to do if he could help it. Was he really that bad at kissing? Granted, he'd never really had that much practice. Gawd! Everything had been fine. UNTIL! He'd decided to get drunk. UNTIL! He'd realized how much he'd come to care for her. UNTIL! He'd decided he wanted to take a chance on his feelings and let her in. Fuckkkkk!

          He was already in too deep. He'd just have to suffer and let her go, to accept they'd never be more than friends. AND HE DIDN'T WANT TO, DAMNIT! He gnawed on the rough skin around his thumb nail and fought the urge to toss his crossbow over the edge of the roof.

          "I wanted to ask … since the owners are friends of yours …"

          Daryl whirled around to spear Rick with his piercing gaze. "For fuck's sake, man, spit it out!"

          Rick shoved his hands in his pockets and frowned. "Look, I know we got off to a bad start -"

          The redneck snorted. "Y' left m'brother for dead. Sorry if that don't inspire th' warm an' fuzzies in me. Y' want us t' sit around th' campfire makin' s'mores and maybe sing Kumbayah?"

          "No, of course not, but you didn't have to stick with the group."

          Daryl turned his back on him. "Didn't do it for y'."

          "I know," Rick said. "You did it for Carol and Sophia, but regardless, I want you to know I'm grateful, and I'm hoping we can maybe try a little better to get along."

          Daryl huffed a bitter laugh. "An' it don't hurt none that I got supplies th' group needs t' get us t' Benning, right?"

          Rick smiled. "For the good of the group."

          "After lunch we can see what we can use outta th' showroom. Ain't gonna do nobody no good rottin' away locked in the store I guess."

          He turned back to look out over the main road. The town was deserted, not a sign of the living or the dead. Even before the outbreak, it had been a piece of shit town. Now it was as if God had wiped it completely from the map. "Y' know we cain't stay here for long, right?"

          Rick nodded. "A few days at most. There wasn't much to see when we drove in."

          "The old man wasn't thinkin' when he chose this place. Yeah, th' bunker is secure, but what happens when y' run out of supplies? We're too close t' Atlanta. Instead of it bein' the perfect place t' scavenge, it's overrun with walkers. When th' food source runs out for 'em, it's gonna be jus' like th' quarry all over again. The smaller towns'll get taken an' be useless. Soon fuel will be scarce. See where I'm goin' with this?"

          "We need some place we can fortify, and it needs to be centralized with access to supplies," Rick added.

          Daryl fidgeted with the strap on his bow. "Eventually, if we can pull this off, we'll have t' be self-sustainable. Y' really think we'll be able t' find someplace we can build up?"

          Rick let his gaze follow the road out of town before looking at Daryl. "I have to believe there's hope for us out there. We just all need to stick together and make it work."

          Daryl grunted. "Might wanna tell yer boy Shane that."

          "Daryl Dixon, are you up there?!"

          Rick grinned as he heard Carol's voice come out in stereo through the hatch. Daryl glowered at him. "Y' going to answer her?"

          "No," the former deputy said, crossing his arms over his chest.

          "Daryl, we were NOT done with our conversation," she called. "Please come down so we can talk."

          Rick nodded awkwardly towards the hatch. "You want me to … um … tell her you're not up here?"

          He cast a look of disgust at the open hatch. "No! Then she'll be badgerin' everybody wantin' t' know where I went. Damn stubborn woman," he growled.

          Rick patted him on the shoulder and made his way to peer down into the darkness. Carol smiled up at him in relief.

          "Hi, Rick. Is Daryl up there with you?"

          Rick glanced back over his shoulder at the archer and grimaced. "He's a little busy right now, Carol."

          "Bullshit! Tell him I need to speak with him. He's being a coward and I'm not going to stand for it this time," she hissed.

          "I'm not a fuckin' coward, woman!" he yelled back as his face appeared above the hatch. "I jus' don't feel like talkin' right now. Ain't y' got some motherin' t' do? One o' them hens is prob'ly breakin' a nail while yer standin' there jawin' at me!"

          Rick winced and pulled Daryl away from the hatch. "Man, are you crazy? You don't EVER send the little woman back to the kitchen. It just ain't done!"

          "I didn't send 'er -"

          "Not in so many words, but yeah you did." Rick shook his head when Daryl shot him a puzzled look. "Women are sensitive about that kinda stuff."

          Daryl chewed on his thumb again. "I didn't lie, though. She's always motherin' somebody."

 _Oh, boy!_ Rick groaned. "It don't matter. You don't  _tell_  your woman stuff like that. She'll have you eating sardines and crackers for a week straight."

          "I like sardines."

          Rick threw his hands up in the air and then swiped one over his face. The man really had no clue. That little woman was going to eat him alive!

          "Daryl, are you coming down? Daryl!"

          The redneck looked at Rick. "What do I do? I don't wanna talk t' her right now."

          Rick shrugged helplessly. "You're going to have to decide what you want more, and you've only got two choices. You can talk to her or send her away. You can make her happy or miserable … In which case everyone's miserable. Trust me, I know."

          "Are you really going to make me come up there?" Carol yelled, and he could hear the quaver of fear in her voice.

          The little devil on his shoulder made him do it. "Y' wanna talk, y' gonna have t' come up here. I can't leave when I'm on watch an' y' know it."

          "You know this isn't even your watch." Rick shook his head and winced. "Good luck."

          "Where th' hell y' goin'?"

          He pointed. "I'll be way over there. Can't exactly leave you two up here alone."

          "Yeah, why's that?"

          "Because when she tosses you off the roof, somebody's gonna need to cart your ass back inside."

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol gnashed her teeth and stared menacingly at the wrought iron ladder. If looks could kill. She couldn't believe her best friend in the world, the man she was slowly coming to love and with whom she'd shared so much of her painful past was being a complete jackass. All because she'd been slow to respond to their kiss? Or was it something more? It had been so beautiful, it had moved her to tears. Ed's kisses had always been so rough, most times just a mashup of her lips against the sharp edges of her teeth. Another lesson in pain to make her know her place. She'd been unprepared for the softness of Daryl's lips on hers or the sweet tenderness of his tongue as he'd dipped in to taste her.

          And now he wouldn't talk to her. To hell with that. They'd come too far to let some misunderstanding come between them. She took a step into the tiny shaft and looked up into the sunlight beaming down through the hatch. It didn't seem as bad as it had been before, she told herself. She wasn't going to let her fear hold her back. "Stubborn  _man_ ," she hissed angrily, her fear goading her into taking that first step on the bottom rung. "Just you wait 'til I get up there, Daryl Dixon!"

          Daryl peered down into the hatch, having heard her mumbling to herself. "Th' hell are y' doin', woman?!"

          "Facing my fears," she growled through clenched teeth, pulling herself up hand over hand with renewed determination.

          The redneck began to look worried and paced back and forth, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet with panther-like grace. "You're gonna get stuck an' then I'ma have t' come get y'."

          "Well if you weren't being a stubborn asshole, I wouldn't have to climb up this miserable ladder, now would I?"

          He gaped at her use of profanity. His woman wasn't one for foul language and it sent a curl of heat all the way to his toes. God, how he loved her fire. She'd come so far from the mousy little woman she'd been when he'd first met her. "Why cain't y' jus' gimme some space t' think?"

          Some of her anger dissipated as her head cleared the hatch. "You just ran off all upset and I don't want you to be mad at me. I don't even know  _why_  you're angry, and I don't want it to fester where we're both hating each other!"

          Daryl had a sneaking suspicion he looked like an idiot as he tried to follow her line of reasoning. "What?"

          She glanced over her shoulder to find Rick tucked into the farthest corner of the roof. "Does he have to be here?"

          Daryl took her hand and pulled her over to sit on the wide ledge. "He thinks y' might try t' toss me over an' I'll need him t' get me back inside," he scoffed.

          Carol's eyes narrowed. "It would serve you right for making me come up that ladder."

          "I didn't make y' do nothin'!"

          "Oh, so you were going to come down, so we could talk?"

          "No!"

          She gave him a pointed look. He dropped his gaze to his hands and began picking at his cuticle. She reached out and folded his hand in hers to prevent him from scratching it bloody. "Daryl, why did you leave? Did I do something wrong?"

          "No … Yeah … fuck, I don't know. It was me. I made y' cry, Carol. I toldja when y' came t' stay with me I'd make y' happy, I'd take care o' y' an' show y' things could be better, an' I already fucked it up," he said bitterly, trying his best to ignore Rick's silent presence across the roof.

          Carol pressed her lips into a thin line of displeasure, but her thumb continued to trace small soothing circles over the back of his hand. Despite her anger with him, she still valued the fact she could talk to him calmly without having to fear him becoming physically violent. "Yes, you messed up … by  _running_  away, and then by insulting me with your sexist bullshit. Why!? Why would you do that?"

          Daryl ran his free hand through his hair and then dropped his head into his palm. "I … Damnit, woman, I suck at this. I don't know what I'm doing." He jerked his gaze up, a panicked gleam in his eyes. "Oh, an' while we're sittin' here hashin' out what a fuck up I am … I lied t' y' too!"

          Her nails dug into his palm as she gaped at him. "What?"

          "Yeah, th' other night at the CDC when I got drunk … I remembered. I lied an' toldja I didn't so I wouldn't have t' face what I'd done. I lied an' then I made y' cry." His breath was coming in shallow pants now and his body was tensed, braced as if he were just waiting for her to strike him. He was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack and Carol was afraid. She'd never seen him like this before. Angry, drunk, maybe a little jealous … but not scared.

          Her heart felt as if it were breaking. He was always so strong for her - her fierce protector - she sometimes forgot just how vulnerable he could be. He flinched as she lifted her hand to rest against his cheek, but she needed to show him she wouldn't hurt him. "Look at me," she commanded gently. She waited patiently while he brought himself in check and finally raised his eyes to meet hers. "If you had stayed, I would have explained."

          "What's t' explain? Y' don't like me like that an' -"

          Her lips cut him off as she claimed his mouth in a tender kiss. He frowned as she pulled away, his brow puckered in confusion. "I told you all I've ever known is pain, Daryl. Even something so simple as a kiss was a lesson with Ed." Her thumb ghosted over his full lower lip. "When we kissed, it was beautiful. It made me feel so many things, a lot of which I didn't think possible. It was more than I could contain, Daryl."

          He still looked doubtful. "Y' were cryin' because y' were -"

          "Happy," she finished for him. "It felt good, and I wasn't prepared for that."

          A strangled little squeak escaped her throat as he lifted her and brought her down on his lap, his arms tight around her waist as he buried his face against her throat. "I'm sorry. I thought I'd ruined everything and I didn't know how t' fix us."

          Carol wrapped her arms about his broad shoulders and absently carded her fingers through his hair, her go-to move when he needed comfort. "Do you want more than friendship, Daryl?" she asked, trying to bury Ed's vicious taunts in the back of her mind. Since the shower episode, she'd suspected Daryl wanted more, but she needed to hear him say the words.

          "I want y', Carol … t' be mine in whatever way y' want. We can go slow if'n y' want. Slow is good," he mumbled against her throat. He rubbed his sweaty palms against her shorts, noticing for the first time she wasn't dressed to be outdoors. "I don't wanna just take care of y' neither. I want y' t' be my partner. I want y' to keep bein' my best friend, an' see what happens."

          Carol ran her nails over the scruff on his jaw and smiled when he shivered. "I think I'd like that very much … on one condition."

          "What's that?" he asked, sure he was going to mess up whatever it was she wanted.

          She pressed her brow to his, reveling in their renewed connection. "No more running. It's ok to be scared, Daryl, and it's ok to screw up. Just talk to me about what's upsetting you. You expect the same from me, don't you?"

          He nodded. "Of course. How can I protect y' if I don't know what y' need?"

          "Well it goes both ways. I need you to confide in me too. And you're going to have to be patient with me. Eventually, I'll be able to relearn touch, Daryl, but it might take time." She blushed, leaning close to whisper in his ear. "I  _do_  want to be with you like that. I want to try."

          "I ain't going nowhere," he assured her. "Except t' take y' back downstairs. I'm sorry I made y' come up here."

          "I'm not. We wouldn't be sitting here now like this if I hadn't faced my fears."

          "I was still an asshole," he grumbled.

          Carol shrugged. "Yeah, but you're mine, and at least now I know it."

 


	25. Chapter 25

 

          Daryl stood three steps down into the hatch, his upper body still visible, his arms outstretched to her. Carol glanced down nervously, biting her lower lip as her eyes took in the brightness of the shaft. Three lanterns glowed brightly, lanterns he'd found to chase away the darkness which frightened her and made the space seem less intimidating. Yet she still couldn't bring herself to make that first step.

          He smiled reassuringly up at her and latched onto her ankles with a gentle grip before skimming his calloused fingertips up the back of her calves to her knees. "C'mon, woman. It's not gonna be like last time. You're gonna be fine, an' y' know I'll be right here with y'."

          Rick put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You can do this, Carol. You don't want to keep Glenn and Dale from watch, d'you?" he teased.

          Carol arched a dubious brow. "I'm sure they can't wait," she drawled. She looked down at the small smile on Daryl's lips and squared her shoulders, trying to gather her flagging courage.

          He'd given her the usual pep talk when he wanted her to do something, the don't do this for me or Sophia spiel … do it for yourself … you're stronger than you think speech. If only she could believe it. He wouldn't let her fall, and he wouldn't let her fail. He was prepared to be her rock, her strength, as he had been from the beginning, but now he was so much more, and she didn't want to disappoint him.

          Finally, she nodded and took his hand, striving to keep her breathing steady and even as she let him guide her feet onto the ladder. She closed her eyes for a moment and groaned, already feeling the tightness of the walls closing in on her despite the absence of darkness. Rick had her other hand to help steady her, and she tried to be brave. Ugh! She hated to feel so inept.

          "Rick, back away from th' hatch 'til we're down. Don't want y' blockin' out th' light."

          "Just yell when you're down," their leader called as he backed away.

          Carol's body reacted immediately as Daryl pressed flush against her from behind. He was so warm, and smelled of sweat and sunshine from being on the roof for so long. His presence enveloped her in calm security, and then his lips ghosted over her ear, causing her to shiver, but not in fear. Those stirrings she'd felt earlier when he'd first kissed her were returning with a vengeance, and it took her mind off her anxiety.

          He chuckled as her head rolled back onto his shoulder. "That's m' girl. Now let's go slow an' easy. One foot after another … that's it."

          All the way down she listened to the sinful tone of his voice, concentrated on the feeling of his body moving with hers, and the gentle caress of the sun on her face. There was nothing to fear in his arms, least of all a bout of claustrophobia. Before she knew it, they were at the bottom of the shaft, and he was giving Rick the go ahead to come down. She gasped as Daryl swung her up into his arms. Why did she feel so weak? She buried her face against his shoulder as they passed by Dale and Glenn, somewhat embarrassed by her weakness.

          "Y' ok? Why y' blushin'?" Daryl asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

          "They're going to tease you after seeing you carry me off downstairs."

          He surprised her by shrugging off her concerns. "Ain't none o' their business what goes on between us. Y' ashamed t' be seen with me or somethin'?"

          She could feel his arms tense beneath her and hear the insecurity in his tone. "I've never been ashamed to be seen with you, Daryl, and I don't care what the others think."

          "They think I'm a filthy obnoxious redneck piece o' trash," he said, carefully maneuvering them down the wooden staircase into the bunker.

          "Oh yeah? Well they think I'm a poor pitiful excuse for a woman who must've enjoyed being a punching bag," she countered. "Looks can be deceiving."

          Daryl carried her into the now deserted kitchen, and set her on a stool at the big center island. He opened the fridge and crowed triumphantly when he came up with a cold can of Coke. He popped the top and set it before her. "My mama's cure all. She always swore it would make everything better."

          "Right after it ate through the lining of your stomach," Carol chuckled, taking a sip.

          He rummaged around in the fridge and brought out things to make them a sandwich since they'd missed breakfast. "If that's really how y' feel about th' group, why d'you want t' stick with 'em?"

          Carol tilted her head to the side, thinking hard. "They're our friends."

          " _Your_  friends."

          She took a bite of the ham and cheese sandwich he placed in front of her and shook her head. "They could be your friends too, Daryl, if you'd give them a chance. You took a chance on me."

          He looked away from her piercing blue gaze, his cheeks reddening. "Didn't have no choice with _you_ , woman. Y' needed me … even if y' couldn't see it at th' time. And y' got a good heart. Y' don't go around judgin' people." He sighed and played with the crust on his sandwich. "Y' saw good in me an' Merle."

          "Because there  _is_ good in both of you." She reached over and curled her hand over his. "This group needs you, Daryl, every bit as much as I do. They need your strength and your wisdom. If anyone can teach them to survive for any length of time, it's you. Take a chance."

          He took a deep shuddering breath, not liking the emotions she brought out in him. It was easy to trust her. She knew the pain he lived with because she shared it. He didn't think he could put that same trust in the rest of the group. "What about when m' brother comes back. I cain't see him wantin' t' stay with th' others after they left 'im t' die on that roof."

          She snatched a handful of chips from the bag he opened and popped one into her mouth. "He will want what's best for his family. Merle Dixon may be a hardass, but he adores Sophia. He'll want what makes her happy."

          Daryl leaned in and pressed his brow to hers, taking advantage of the relative privacy of the kitchen. "I hope you're right."

 

*.*.*

 

          "But, Daryl, it's not fair!" Sophia pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. "I should be able to help you gather weapons upstairs. It could be a learning experience for both me  _and_  Carl. How are we to learn if you won't let us near the weapons."

          Daryl gave her a blank look. Why did Merle make it look so easy to talk to the girl? "It's not like that, Soph. Your mama needs your help packing up some o' th' foodstuffs t' bring with us while we work upstairs. Shane an' Rick already have experience with weapons an' know what t' pack up without me havin' to explain what we need."

          "Merle would have let me help," she murmured sullenly.

          "Yeah, well he ain't here," Daryl snapped. He huffed a sigh, irritated with himself for being harsh with her. "Soph, there's gonna be time t' teach y'. Jus' 'cause Merle ain't here, it don't mean I'ma forget your trainin'. Y' trust me, don'tcha?"

          Sophia nodded and let her shoulders slump a little. "Of course." She looked past Daryl where Rick and Shane stood waiting for him to go up into the store. "A lot more than those two."

          Daryl smirked. Carol's daughter had a keen sense of insight and wasn't easily fooled by the two men just because they were former police officers. She was shaping up into a true Dixon, wary of anyone who wasn't family, and Rick having left her dearest friend behind on that run didn't instill trust in her.

          "Tell y' what," he said. "How bout I get Carl a bow like yours and enough bolts to split between y'? Fair payment for helpin' your mama and Lori work on packin'?"

          "What's Rick gonna say about Carl having a bow?" She inched a little closer to whisper as she gave their leader a skeptical glance. "Carl's parents are bad about babying him."

          Daryl shrugged. "Boy needs to have 'is own weapon, an' he's already been shown th' basics. Rick'll just need t' understand."

          Sophia watched them go, resigned to not getting her way. "C'mon, Carl."

          Lori and Carol were already packing canned goods into boxes while Andrea rifled through several suitcases in the storeroom. "Do we really have to leave tomorrow?" the blonde asked. "I don't see why we have to give up this place when it's relatively safe."

          Carol didn't look up from her task. "We don't want to be here too long and have a pack of those things venture down from the city and trap us here."

          Lori nodded. "We all appreciate having a real bed to sleep in, Andrea. I'm not looking forward to being out on the road again either."

          "And TV and showers and real food," Carl moaned. "I wish we could stay here forever."

          "I just wish we could stay until Merle comes back," Sophia mumbled.

          Carol reached over and brushed the girl's blonde locks off her brow. "Merle will find us, baby, but first he has to help Marty. You know he'd be with you if he could."

          "I know."

          Her heart went out to her daughter, hating to see how miserable she was. Even as much as Sophia loved Carl, he was a poor substitute for Merle. They had a bond which couldn't be replaced. The elder Dixon had treated Sophia with paternal affection she'd been lacking her whole life only to have it snatched away from her.

          Seeing Sophia's lack of enthusiasm, she took the cans from her hands. "We've got this, baby. Why don't you go and fold that last load of clothes in the dryer and then you and Carl can watch a movie or play a game until it's time to start dinner." Carol brightened as a novel idea came to her. "Or better yet … write a letter to leave for Merle. If he comes back here, he'll know we were here, and you can tell him where we're going."

          Sophia threw her arms around her mother and hugged her warmly. "Thanks, mom! You always know how to make me feel better."

          Carol watched her bolt from the room to do her chore and write her letter, Carl dogging her heels. She looked up to find Andrea staring at her curiously. "What? Did I spill something on myself?"

          The blonde shook her head. "No. Just wondering why your girl would get so attached to someone like Merle."

          Lori glanced between her two friends, feeling the sudden tension in the air. "Merle was good to Sophia. Carl too. It's the adults in the group he had no patience for."

          "What exactly do you mean … Someone like Merle?" Carol asked defensively.

          Andrea sniffed imperiously, a condescending smile tugging at her lips. "Well aside from him being crass, rude, and vulgar, he's dangerous. What possible good influence could he be on those kids? His racist tendencies alone are enough to want to keep him away from them. You didn't see him in Atlanta, Carol."

          Carol's eyes were cold and hard as they narrowed on Andrea. "Why don't you tell us what happened? All Rick and T-Dog said was that he was a danger to you all and needed to be restrained."

          Andrea tossed the shirt she was holding onto a pile of possibles and frowned. "Glenn was determined to do what he could to save Rick. Merle was up on the roof where we'd all been watching to see if they'd make it back. Me, Jacqui and Morales went down to check on them, and Merle just started firing into the pack of geeks. He was only drawing more of them to us."

          "So, he was scared," Carol reasoned. "Dixons act irrationally when cornered."

          Lori tended to agree. "We don't really know how any one of us would react in a similar situation. It was still no reason to handcuff him to a roof."

          "He and T got into a fistfight, Lori. Then he hit Rick when he tried to intervene. He was only supposed to cool his heels for a while. Him getting left was an accident."

          Carol felt as if she'd been punched in the gut. "But you're not sorry he was left behind, are you?"

          "God, Andrea," Lori winced. "He was one of our own, and even if he wasn't well-liked, he was still a human being."

          "I'm sorry for the pain Sophia and Daryl are suffering, but I can't say we aren't better off without him. We're safer at least."

          Carol rose unsteadily to her feet. "I'm not going to defend Merle to you when I know I'd just be wasting my breath. I know a little more about him than you, though," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "I remember how callous he was when he and Daryl first arrived at the quarry. I, for one, was terrified of him. Then Sophia befriended him, and he changed. For the better. He cleaned up his act and tried to become part of our group. He and Daryl are the only reason we haven't starved. He and Daryl are the reason I'm standing here today."

          Andrea had the decency to look ashamed. "We're all entitled to our own opinions, Carol. I'm not trying to offend you, but I can't bring myself to see good in Merle Dixon."

          Carol cast her a chilly smile. "Merle will be back with us before you know it. Let's all hope your _opinion_  doesn't come back to bite you in the butt. You may need him to save your life one day."

 

*.*.*

 

          Lori jumped as Carol slammed the pan onto the counter, startled by the noise in the otherwise quiet kitchen. Andrea had upset their friend more than Carol was willing to admit, but everyone had their breaking point. She left the pot of boiling water on the stove after adding salt and moved to Carol's side, rubbing a soothing hand over her back. "You ok?"

          Carol shook her head. "I guess I let her get to me. I know she's hurting, what with Amy's loss and all, but I can't help but think of how Sophia would have felt if she'd heard her say those things about Merle. I really didn't take Andrea to be so callous."

          "Well, she is a lawyer, after all," she snorted. Lori leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. "We're all hurting, Carol. We've all lost people we care about, but we're not trying to take it out on each other. Andrea just wants to be a bitch and make everyone else feel just as rotten as she does. So what … Merle was an asshole. I think he acted the way he did just to get a rise out of people."

          Carol huffed a short laugh. "He  _did_. Daryl and Sophia were probably the only ones who got a glimpse of who he really was … is," she amended. "When did you stop hating him?"

          Lori smirked and dumped the package of elbow macaroni into the water. "I never hated him … he just scared me to death. At first, I thought he was gonna murder us all in our sleep. But then he went on that run and brought back that bag full of crafting supplies for the kids. He didn't have to do that." She shrugged. "Made me think he couldn't be all bad if he would do something like that for the children."

          "Mom, Mom, Mom!" Carl cried, running full tilt into the kitchen. "Check out the wicked bow dad gave me!"

          Lori grimaced as she took in the recurve bow with its crimson lacquered finish and the full quiver of arrows slung across his back. Sophia stood just behind him, holding herself proudly with her own prized weapon.

          Carol reached out and ruffled his dark hair. "That's a fine bow, Carl. You remember what Merle taught you … It's not a toy."

          "Yes, ma'am," he replied. He turned hopeful eyes on his mother. "Shane and Andrea are going up on the roof for their turn at watch. Can me and Sophia go up with them to practice with our bows? Dad said I had to make sure it was ok with you."

          Lori shared a worried look with Carol, but knew if her son would ever adapt to this world, she was going to have to let go of him just a little. "Ok, but you make sure if you come off that roof you have an adult with you." They took off like a shot, nearly plowing into Daryl as he came into the kitchen. "God, I hope I don't regret this."

          "He'll be fine," Carol assured her. "You know Shane would cut off his own arm before he let anything happen to Carl." She smiled warmly at Daryl as he sat down at the island and proceeded to frown at the organized chaos of their meal prep. "Hey. How'd it go upstairs?"

          He shrugged. "A'right I guess. Don't think we're gonna have t' worry about guns and ammo for a while. I gotcha somethin'."

          Carol tilted her head to the side, the smile fading from her lips. "Haven't you already done enough for me?"

          "Nope," he argued. "Not nearly. Ain't nobody gonna recognize y' when I'm done, woman." He opened his hand to reveal two shiny silver cylinders.

          Carol's brow furrowed. "What's this?"

          "Silencers. They screw onto the barrel of your handguns. Won't have t' worry about the sound attractin' walkers." He pressed them into her palm. "I know y' been worried about shootin' because o' that, so I figured …"

          Carol glanced over her shoulder to see Lori busy giving the pasta a stir. She rested a hand on Daryl's shoulder and leaned in to press a quick kiss to his lips. He blushed, but didn't hide his smile. "Thank you. That was very thoughtful."

          He rubbed his damp palms on his jeans and opted to change the subject. "Whatcha cookin'? I'm starved."

          "Go shower. By the time you're done, we should be about ready to have dinner on the table."

          He grumbled and reached over to snatch a slice of cheese from the plate. "Don't know why y' gotta keep it a secret."

          "Oh, stop your grousing and go. You'll appreciate it more … element of surprise and all."

          His blush deepened, and a warm feeling swept through his chest at her teasing. He leaned in close to her as he got to his feet. "Careful, woman. I might have a surprise or two o' m' own."

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol giggled. It was a lighthearted sound he doubted he'd ever tire of hearing. It was coming more and more of late, and he hoped he could keep the momentum going. "How many helpings have you had, Daryl? I don't see where you're putting it."

          Daryl glanced down at his nearly empty plate and wondered the same thing himself. She and Lori had outdone themselves with the meal. Thanks to the overstocked freezer, they had a feast laid out before them and he wasn't going to let it go to waste. Who knew - after they left the bunker - when they'd be able to eat like this again? Fried chicken, oven baked macaroni and cheese - not that crap in the box, but real homemade cheesy goodness - and something Sophia called 'patty cakes'. In actuality, they were really carrot fritters made with mashed canned carrots, sugar, cinnamon, flour and eggs and then dropped into hot oil in dollops, making a little fried treat.

          "I dunno," he shrugged, smiling smugly as his belly stretched for one more bite. "Three?"

          Sophia groaned and stuffed one more fritter in her mouth. "More like four. Mom, this is the best thing I think I've ever eaten."

          Carol chuckled. "I used to make them for you all the time when you were little and didn't want to eat your carrots."

          Rick, sitting to Daryl's left patted his stomach. "What did you do to the corn? I don't think I've ever had it like that."

          "Just a pinch of sage. I'm really going to want to cry when my spices run out."

          Glenn nodded enthusiastically. "We won't let that happen as long as you keep feeding us like this. I'm sure it won't be too hard to find them on runs if we really look."

          Shane pushed his plate aside. "It really was a wonderful meal, Carol, Lori." He frowned as Lori looked away from him. He had to wonder how long she was going to keep giving him the silent treatment. His gaze swung to Rick. "So, what time are we leaving in the morning? Want to get an early start, right?"

          "We ain't leavin' tomorrow," Daryl said when he noticed the panicked look on Sophia's face. "One more day."

          "What we waiting on?" the former deputy asked, staring at him incredulously. "We're packed and ready to go. I don't see what waiting one more day is going to accomplish."

          Daryl put a restraining hand on Sophia's shoulder as she opened her mouth to argue. He didn't want her to set the man off, because despite his promises to Carol to control his temper, he wasn't going to let Shane take out his anger on her. "I promised Soph we'd wait three days for m' brother t' come back. If he ain't here by th' time we pack up tomorrow night, we go anyway."

          "I think that's only fair," Rick said. "We have all the comforts of home here, and one more day isn't going to matter. Why not enjoy it while we can … since we don't know what we're going to find out there on the road."

          T-Dog disappeared into the kitchen for another soda from the fridge and then leaned against the doorjamb with a contented sigh. "So, what we doing tonight? Movie? Board games? Xbox? There's a sweet setup in the room we're using. Or we could play poker."

          "Dale might want to play after his watch …"

          Daryl sat back in his chair, listening to the others discuss their possible activities for the evening. He grabbed Carol's hand when she reached for the dirty plates and began stacking them. "Uh-uh. Y' cooked; y' ain't cleanin' too."

          She gave him that pointed look he was coming to hate. She'd work herself into the ground if he didn't watch her every second, but he wasn't going to let her get her way. "Me an' Soph'll get the dishes done."

          Carol's severe ready-to-argue look warmed instantly. "You're sure? I can take care of this."

          "No, Mom, we can do it," the girl chimed in. "Why don't you have your shower and then we can pick a movie to watch before bed."

          Never in a million years would Ed have offered to help her in the kitchen. "Alright … I guess. And, baby, make sure you take some bacon and sausage from the freezer to thaw out for breakfast in the morning. Don't forget." She turned to Daryl as he stacked the plates with the silverware on top as Sophia gathered the serving dishes and cups. "Thank you."

          His cheeks warmed, but he did his best to shrug it off. "Ain't nothin'," he mumbled. "G'on now an' get clean." His blush deepened. "Not that y' dirty or anythin' like that."

          "I knew what you meant," she leaned in close to whisper. Her hand rose to rest on his shoulder as she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Sophia giggled, and so did Carl. "And no horror movies. I still can't believe Daryl and Rick let you watch one last night. We're lucky you two slept at all."

          Lori stared at her husband, aghast. "You did what?!"

          The kids groaned and rushed ahead of Daryl into the kitchen, leaving Rick to explain as best as he could to his wife.

 

*.*.*

 

          “Mom, are you crying?" Carl asked, his nose wrinkled in disgust as he stared up from his seat on the floor at his mother. Lori was blubbering into a handful of tissues as the final scenes of  _The Princess Bride_  rolled on the screen.

          "Shut up," she sniffled.

          "Son, she always cries when Wesley and Buttercup kiss at the end. Don't tease her. Hopefully, one day, you'll understand," Rick said, pressing a kiss to Lori's cheek as he got up to usher them off to bed. He wanted to get a few hours of sleep before taking watch with Daryl in the morning.

          "Mr. Rick, can't Carl watch one more movie with me? I promise we won't stay up too late," Sophia asked, her wide blue eyes filled with a pleading gleam hard for the man to resist.

          "I suppose," he relented. Carl flopped back down onto the nest of pillows and blankets he'd gathered with Sophia and gave her a high five. "But no horror. I don't want to get up to go to the bathroom and find the two of you in here watching  _The Texas Chainsaw Massacre_."

          "Oooh, do we have that one?" the boy whispered to his friend. She smirked and slowly shook her head. Oh, he could be dense at times. It was sometimes hard for her to believe they were the same age.

          Sophia held up a copy of  _The Goonies_. "No horror … promise," she grinned.

          Lori dropped a kiss to the top of both the children's clean hair. "Goodnight, you two. You know where we'll be if you need anything."

          "Night, Mom."

          "G'night, Miss Lori."

          Daryl's arm tightened around Carol as she moved to get up. "Where  _you_  goin'? We not watchin' another one?" he asked, his fingers ghosting lightly over her bare upper arm.

          Carol yawned, settling back against his side when she saw he wasn't ready to move yet. It was just odd seeing him so relaxed when usually he was a bundle of energy. "We can if you want," she assured him. "I just don't know how much longer I'll be able to stay awake, and I didn't want you to have to pack me off to bed again tonight."

          "Ain't no hardship, woman. Y' don't weigh hardly nothin'." he murmured. He rose to his feet, pulling her up with him and tucking her hand securely into his. "C'mon."

          Sophia bounded to her feet, intent on raiding the pantry for popcorn. She stopped long enough to tell them goodnight. "Sleep well, Mom," she said, hugging her mother and then Daryl. He flinched, but she was used to it. He wasn't pushing her away, and that was all that mattered to the girl.

          "One movie, Sophia," her mother reminded her.

          Daryl led her to the room they'd claimed for themselves and shut the door with a soft snick behind him. Carol fumbled her way through the darkened room and clicked on the small lamp by the bed. Thank heavens for the generators. She turned to find him leaned back against the door, watching her with a troubled expression in his smoky blue eyes. "What is it?" she asked as she moved to her pack and took out her sleeping shorts. She'd merely thrown on a pair of black yoga pants and a blue tank top after her shower.

          He pushed himself off the door, a delicious burn settling low in his belly as his eyes traveled over her from top to toe. He wanted more of what they'd had that morning. More sweet skin to skin contact, but without the panic which had later ensued for both of them. They knew where they stood now, knew what to expect from one another, and he had a fairly good idea of what to do without sending her fleeing. Daryl crossed the room and took the shorts from her, tossing them carelessly back atop her pack.

          Carol's eyes went wide as his hands spanned her hips, the rough pads of his fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt to caress her soft skin. "Daryl?"

          Daryl took a deep breath, willing his tongue not to stick to the roof of his mouth. Now was not the time for him to fight for words. "Take off your shirt."  _Damn! Idiot!_

          He winced as she pulled out of his loose embrace and crossed her arms over her chest. "I beg your pardon?"

          He threw his hands up before him. "That didn't come out right," he groaned. And he was failing quite epically to get over his embarrassment and explain himself. "Jus' … I really wanna do somethin' nice for y', ok. Trust me?"

          Carol stood rigid before him, remembering what he'd said to her this morning. They were going to take it slow … that's what he'd said. Her mind shouldn't have slid down into the gutter the second the words had left his mouth. And would it really be so bad to take her shirt off for him? For the first time in her life she actually had nice underwear. He'd already seen her naked, so what really was her problem?

          "Why? I mean … I do trust you, Daryl, but … why would you -"

          It should have been a comfort to him that she was blushing just as deeply as he was, but somehow it wasn't. He'd been thinking about what he wanted to do for hours, and then as soon as he'd opened his mouth, he'd fucked it up. He raked a hand through his shaggy hair and sighed. "I suck at this, Carol. It would jus' be better t' show y' instead of trying t' explain."

          Now she was intrigued. She bit her lip and let her posture relax a bit as she stared up at his earnest expression. She  _did_  trust him, with every fiber of her being. He wouldn't hurt her no matter what lies Ed had tried to drill into her head over the years. "Ok," she eked out. "But you have to take yours off too."

          It didn't even occur to him to be wary of showing his scars to her. He'd bared himself to her before and she hadn't judged or ridiculed him … because she knew what it was like to be marked in such a horrific way. He whipped the sleeveless t-shirt over his head and tossed it over his shoulder, his back straight as he met her gaze squarely. He stepped closer when her hand lifted to trace one of the scars on his chest. "Better?"

          Carol fought back the tears which threatened. He'd come so far in trusting her, how could she deny him hers. Her heart sped up a little as she lifted the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, standing before him in only her pants and crimson lace bra.

          Daryl's lips parted on a startled gasp. This wasn't what he'd been expecting. How was it possible for her to look more enticing in such a wispy scrap of lace than nothing at all? "Wh-Where'd y' get that?" he rasped shakily, his eyes unable to tear themselves away from her perfect breasts.

          Carol snorted. "Marty. We found a good bit of upscale lingerie in some of the suitcases in the storeroom." She reached out and tipped his chin up, gently closing his gaping mouth. She ducked her head shyly. "I never owned anything like this before. I have to say I'm rather flattered by your reaction."

          "Beautiful." He drew in a shuddering breath which came out as a whimper on the exhale, causing his blush to deepen. Gawd, he'd be lucky if she wanted to have anything to do with him after this. "Bed … now! Lay on yer stomach," he said, his voice rough as he turned away from her to grab the bottle of body lotion he'd scavenged from Marty's bathroom earlier. His body was already responding to her state of undress and he hadn't even touched her yet.

          Daryl bit down sharply on his abused thumbnail and winced as he watched her crawl onto the bed. She was teasing him purposely, he knew. Watching her toned little behind sway provocatively, he couldn't help but wonder if she had matching drawers to go with that lacy bra of hers. When she was settled against the pillows, he finally found the strength to move, kneeling at the end of the bed.

          "Don't be scared, ok?" he whispered as he felt a shudder ripple through her. "Y' said y' never knew a soft touch before. That's all this is, woman."  _And maybe a kiss or two_ , he thought, leaning down to trace his lips over the silver scars on her back. He felt her sigh all the way to her toes as he knelt beside her and flipped back the cap on the cherry vanilla lotion.

          Daryl squeezed some into his hands, not wanting to squirt the cold gooey substance directly onto her skin. Warming it first in his hands would be better. He wasn't an insensitive jerk after all, he thought smugly. He didn't care that were Merle there, he'd rib him endlessly for such an act. This was about his woman, his precious Carol, and her trusting him to acquaint her with his touch. Still she shivered as he gently rested his hands against her skin.

          "What're you doing? Is that lotion?" she asked, trying to see what he was about with a glance over her shoulder. "It smells heavenly."

          "Yeah." He wondered if she could hear the smile in his voice. "Found it earlier and thought y' might like it. Is this ok?"

          She twisted her arm around and popped the clasp of her bra free. "There … that'll give you more room."

          It might give him more area to work the lotion into her skin, but his flagging control on his libido was marching swiftly out the bedroom door.  _Focus, dumbass!_  he chided himself. This was not about what was going on in his fucking pants. His fingertips kneaded the coiled tension from her overworked and way overstressed muscles, and already he could feel her begin to relax. He worked his hands over her shoulders and along her arms with the gentlest of caresses, showing her what it could be like to have someone touch her with love. His thumbs followed the line of muscles along her spine and then used the heel of his hands against knots of strain in her lower back. Her back bowed beneath him as she curled in on herself, pressing the ridge of her spine more firmly into his strong hands.

          "Y' like that, Carol? Does it feel good?" he murmured softly as he leaned down to press a kiss to her shoulder.

          She sniffled.

 _Fuckkkkkk!_  He tilted her chin up and saw the tracks her tears had made over her cheeks.  _No! No! No!_ "What'd I do? Was I too rough?" he asked, his face screwed up into a look of disgust directed at himself. Why could he never do anything right? "Please don't cry."

          Carol held her bra in place with a hand over her chest as she sat up beside him. Her tear-bright eyes glowed like twin jewels in the lamplight and a radiant smile bloomed on her lips. "You were perfect," she whispered in awe. She brought her hand up to cup his cheek, her thumb teasing softly at the corner of his lips. "I've never had anyone touch me so gently or so selflessly." She felt boneless with relaxation, the stress and strain of her life melting away.

          "Gawd," he groaned, collapsing back onto the pillows next to her. "I thought I'd fucked up again. Y' sure y' ok?"

          Carol curled up against his side and laid her head on his shoulder as his arm curled around her. "I'm better than ok, Daryl. That was wonderful."

          A smug smirk replaced the earlier frown on his lips. "Now y' know a soft touch, yeah?" Her only response was to snuggle deeper into his embrace and wrap her free arm about his waist. He pressed his lips to her brow. "I'll never hurt y'. Not ever."

          "I know, Daryl. I trust you." And she did. She'd been honest when she'd told him how wonderful it was to have him touch her. There would be no more pain for her … not at his hands, and she couldn't wait for more of what the future would bring them.

 


	26. Chapter 26

 

          "Damnit, that hurt!"

          "Then move yer ass, woman!" he hissed, prodding her along in front of him again for good measure. "We ain't got time fer a coffee break."

          Marty glared at him through jade eyes narrowed to slits in her ire. It was bad enough they'd found what was left of her brothers, she thought, pushing aside her grief. There would be time for that later when they weren't running for their lives. "Have we lost 'em yet?"

          Merle leaned against the cool bricks on the side of the building in the alley and leaned out just enough to see across the street. He ducked back quickly and pressed her back, his body covering hers. His dark clothes blended with the shadows as the jeep passed, leaving them in relative safety … for the moment. "We need t' find cover fer th' night, girl. Any ideas?" he panted. His wrist throbbed like a bitch and his head was swimming from their earlier exertion.

          The girl looked around, ducking her head out of the alley in an attempt to get her bearings. "Waterton Ave. Two blocks up there's a motel. Wanna try our luck there for th' night?"

          "Fairly obvious. Maybe they won't look fer us there."

          He could only hope. Merle let her take point, needing the rest he hoped they'd find in the meager shelter. The town they'd tracked the boys to wasn't very big and the population of walkers hadn't been bothersome yet, but he really didn't want to take any chances.

          Marty picked the lock on the farthest room on the second floor. They'd have plenty of warning if anyone came up the stairs and the fire escape was right outside their window. It would do. He ushered her away from the door and locked it behind them before checking the windows and then collapsing onto the shabby bedspread which had seen better days. She set her pack down and sat down next to him, pulling his arm onto her lap. He immediately jerked it away from her.

          "Don't be a baby, Merle. Lemme see. Y' already flushed and sweatin' like a stuck pig. Y' could prob'ly do with another dose o' antibiotics," she chided gently.

          "Don't need y' coddlin' me, woman," he grumbled.

          "We shoulda gone back t' th' bunker. I have better supplies there for this sorta thing," she said, unwrapping the bandages from his forearm.

          Merle averted his gaze. He didn't want to see the mangled mess she'd had to stitch back together. There were going to be two jagged scars left etched into his skin for the remainder of his life, but at least he'd been able to keep his hand. He really hoped the numbness he suffered in his thumb would go away eventually once he'd healed. "Toldja … cain't risk leadin' them fuckers back t' th' bunker. Y' really want 'em lootin' th' store? Or gainin' access t' what y' got hidden below?" And what if Daryl had led the quarry group back there? He wasn't going to put his family in danger.

          "We're gonna have t' go back, Merle," she muttered quietly. She was all too familiar with the man's stubborn streak, and didn't want to set off his temper to go with it. All she wanted was to go home.

          He watched as she dug bandages and ointment from the pack. The wound didn't look too bad, even though it hurt like a bitch. It didn't account for the fever he was running. He needed his full strength back. He was a liability to her as he was. His thoughts swam back to images of his brother, of his little peach, of Carol. He'd be no good to them either in his present condition.

          "Y' thinkin' 'bout y' little girl again, ain'tcha? Y' got that look."

          He snorted. "I don't like not knowin' where she is or if baby brother's takin' proper care o' her. She's a good kid, smart. And she don't take shit from anyone. I like that."

          Her full lips stretched into a grin as she found the bottle of antibiotics and shook two out into her hand. "I think it's nice. She looked like she'd been kinda sheltered. You boys can teach her an' her mama how to make it in all this mess. Daryl was kinda sweet on Carol. He'll watch after 'em, I'm sure."

          He kicked off his boots and stretched out on the bed, pulling her close to his good side. "Y' always did put too much faith in th' likes o' us."

          Marty curled up next to him and laid her head on his chest. "No, I didn't. Y' just don't give yerself enough credit, Merle Dixon."

          His fingers carded into her long ebony locks and he sighed, relaxing just a bit for the first time in days. "G'on an' try t' sleep. Tomorrow we'll try t' head back t' the bunker."

          "Y' think that Latino fucker an' his partner with th' dreads will have given up on us by then?"

          Merle patted the nine-millimeter on his hip. "If'n he knows what's good fer 'im."

*.*.*

          Daryl paced back and forth over the gravel parking lot, exerting herculean strength of will not to let his temper take over. "Busted water pump," T-Dog confirmed as he closed the hood on the church van. "This one ain't going nowhere."

          All the supplies weren't going to fit in the RV, Cherokee and the limited space in Daryl's truck. He could see it written all over Rick's face. They'd already had to ditch Shane's jeep because of it's outrageous fuel consumption.

          "You're going to have to leave the bike or ride it, Daryl. But we're going to need the space in the bed of the truck."

          "I cain't take both my girls on the bike,  _Rick!_ " he sneered. "Fuck!"

          Rick planted his hands on his hips and hung his head, trying to reason with the redneck. "There's no reason why Sophia can't ride in the Cherokee with me and Lori and Carl. Those two don't like to be separated anyway. Then Carol can ride with you on the bike and T and Shane can take shifts driving your truck."

          "Sounds good to me, man," T-Dog said amiably.

          Daryl let out a long breath and winced. Sophia was already upset they'd be leaving in just a few hours and Merle still hadn't returned. He didn't like the thought of her being so far away from him. She belonged in the truck with him and her mama, nestled between them where he knew she was safe and protected. And what would Carol have to say about being on the bike with him? Would she even want to ride with him? Not that he'd give her a choice. He didn't even want to think of the gnawing itch of anxiety which would plague him if he didn't have her near to hand where he was assured of her safety.

          Rick put a hand on the hunter's shoulder. Daryl flinched and took a step back. He couldn't help it. He had promised Carol he'd try to get along with the man, but that wasn't going to make him comfortable with touch – any touch – overnight. The former deputy dropped his hand, seeming to understand Daryl's reticence. "Daryl, I promise I'll look after her as if she were my own. I'm not going to let her out of my sight."

          "Cain't jus' leave Merle's bike. He'd kick my ass from here t' Macon," he gave in grudgingly. "Fine, Soph can ride with y', I guess."

          "A'right, let's get the bike off the truck and finish loading the supplies," Shane said impatiently. "We don't want to get to Benning after dark."

          "If we even make it t' Benning," Daryl sneered. Maybe once they got up there and the jerk could see for himself it was a waste of time, he'd shut his hole and they could find a real place in which to put their hopes.

 

*.*.*

 

          "Sorry, Daryl," Glenn apologized as he raced up the stairs with another box of supplies, nearly mowing him over.

          The bunker was a hive of activity, and if he didn't watch it, somebody was going to run right over him. He pressed his back against the living room wall as Andrea and Dale flew past carrying their own crates. "Carol!" he bellowed, afraid to move until the last of them passed on their way to the surface. "Woman, where are y'?"

          "Kitchen!" he heard her yell from down the hall. He didn't expect to enter the room and find her scrubbing the countertops.

          "What're y' doin'?"

          "Cleaning," she replied as she tackled a pan soaking in the sink with a brillo. "I thought that would've been obvious. I can't have Marty and Merle come back and find the place not only wiped out of half of her supplies, but filthy as well."

          He shook his head. She'd been the same way as long as he'd known her. Back at the quarry, his tent had never been so clean. And he wasn't even going to think about their laundry. "I need t' talk t' y'. Dog's van crapped out on us, an' we're gonna need to store our supplies in the bed of the truck."

          "What about Merle's bike? Are you going to leave it here for him?" She asked, now drying the pan and storing it in the cupboard.

          "Hell no! What if someone steals it? I'd get my ass kicked an' never hear th' end of it."

          She arched a brow as he raised his thumb to chew on the nail. That never boded well. "Would you care to elaborate instead of mutilating yourself?" she asked, grabbing his hand and yanking it away from his mouth.

          He almost forgot what he'd wanted to say as she traced her soft fingers over his hand. "Um … yeah. Sophia's gonna ride with Rick, an' we're gonna ride the bike. I'ma let T drive the truck, an' Shane's gonna ride shotgun."

          "Just like that?" she asked, clearly annoyed.

 _Uh-oh …what'd I do now?_  he wondered. "Just like what?"

          "Just like that you decide where you want us? We're not luggage, Daryl."

          He frowned. This is what she was going to be upset about? "I know you're not luggage, woman. But did y' think I wouldn't have y' with  _me_? And if Sophia can't ride with us, I know she'll be safest with Rick." He pulled her closer, his free hand coming to rest against her hip. "What's wrong?"

          "I've never ridden on a motorcycle before," she admitted sheepishly.

          His brows shot up. "Ain't nothin' t' fear. I been ridin' since I was thirteen. You'll be jus' as safe on the bike with me as y' would be in th’ truck."

          Carol bit her lip and nodded. She'd rather be with him than any of the others anyway. She'd just find her courage and put on a brave face. "Ok."

          He dropped a kiss to her brow and let her go. "Where's Soph?"

          "She's in our room … sulking. She's more than a little upset Merle didn't come back before we got ready to leave."

          "Yeah … well I ain't too happy with his ass either, but we cain't keep th' group waitin' forever," he grumbled.

          "Will you talk to her?" Carol asked. He groaned when he saw those big blue eyes wide and pleading.

          "Carol …" he whined.

          "Did you just –"

          "NO!" he cut her off before she could finish, but he still felt his face flame. "Fine … I'll go talk t' her."

          She rewarded him by pressing her lips to his in a soft kiss. His arms came around her of their own accord, crushing her to his chest. His lips entered a clumsy dance with hers, wanting more, but she pushed him away. "Talk now; kiss later."

          "Why y' gotta be so mean?!" He left his giggling woman to finish up in the kitchen and padded quietly down the hall.

 

*.*.*

 

          The lighthearted mood Carol had left him with evaporated as he knocked softly on the bedroom door and poked his head inside. Sophia was sitting on the edge of the bed in the dark, her fingers idly toying with an envelope in her hands. He couldn't remember seeing her so dejected since the night Merle had failed to return with him from Atlanta. "Can I come in?" he asked, opening the door a little wider.

          She nodded, but didn't raise her red-rimmed eyes to look at him.

          Daryl sat down beside her on the bed. "Y' ok?"

          "No … not really," she sniffled.

          What the hell was he supposed to say? He was crap at dealing with emotional females. Though he was getting better with Carol, he thought with a small measure of pride. "He'll catch up t' us, Soph."

          "I know. He won't let us down. I was just really hoping he'd be with us when we left this place, y'know?" She showed him the envelope, Merle's name scrawled across the front in her loopy handwriting. "I wrote him a letter. It was Mama's idea."

          He smiled faintly. "Your mama always has good ideas. What'd y' tell him … in your letter? Unless y' don't want me t' know."

          She was quiet as she fiddled with the unsealed flap for a bit. Finally, when Daryl didn't think he could stand it any longer, she reached over and turned on the lamp. She pulled the letter from the pristine white envelope and unfolded it. "You want to read it? It's ok if you see what I wrote."

          He took it from her, his brow furrowing in indecision. This letter was meant for Merle, not him. It was an invasion of privacy, and he didn't know if he should. But the hopeful gleam in her eyes made up his mind for him. It was as if she wanted his approval. His chest tightened.  _Stupid feelings!_

 

_Merle –_

 

_WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?! Daryl, Rick, T and Glenn went back to Atlanta to get you. Why weren't you there? Why didn't you come back to the camp? It's all my fault … I should never have asked you to go. Please be ok. I miss you and I want you to come home. I know all we have is a tent, but it's still home._

_If you found this note, you know we were here at the bunker. Daryl made Rick wait three days, but now we have to go. We're going to Fort Benning. Shane's got a bug up his butt about that place. We don't think it's going to have anything there for us, but maybe when Shane sees for himself he'll shut his trap about it. Please hurry, Merle. Come find us. I know you will. I want my friend back. I'll try to leave signs for you if we change direction. Almost like breadcrumbs :)_

_And, Merle …please remember to be good. Don't let what you see or hear out there make you mean again. Don't let people you meet keep you from finding your family. We need you. I need you._

_And I love you. Don't forget._

_-Sophia_

 

          Daryl hung his head and closed his eyes. "Christ, kid. He's going to tear apart half the state tryin' t' find y'." He handed the letter back to her and she sealed it up this time. Just before she threw her arms around him and started crying. He patted her shoulder awkwardly. "Aw, don't cry, Soph. It'll be ok."

          "I-I might've had a mom and dad and a nice house and clothes and stuff, but I never had a family until you a-and Merle. He has to be ok, Daryl," she wept.

          "Hey," Daryl mumbled, tilting her chin up. "Ain't nothin' can kill a Dixon but a Dixon. Merle's ok an' it ain't gonna be long before he's back with us. I promise."

          "And you never break a promise, d'you, Daryl?"

          "No. Now go wash up before we gotta hit the road. Carl's waitin' on y'. Where's your pack? I wanna check it real quick," he said as she got up to go into the bathroom.

          "It's packed. You don't need to check it."

          Which made him want to check it all the more. He did wait until she'd disappeared into the bathroom before he dumped the entire contents onto the bed … even the little compartments on the outside. Clothes, granola bars, four bottles of water, a familiar nine-millimeter Beretta with a box of shells, three rice krispies treats, some jerky, a bottle of Gatorade, four grenades … For fuck's sake, the girl was ready to go to war!

          "Sophia!"

          She poked her head out of the door, still drying her hands on a towel. "Daryl, you're invading my privacy," she deadpanned.

          "Where'd y' get the gun?" he asked, checking to see if it was loaded. It was, with a full clip. He didn't give a good goddamn if he was invading her space. It was his job to protect her … even from herself.

          "It's Merle's spare. I thought I'd hang on to it until you're ready to show me how to use it or until he comes back," she explained, coming to sit on the side of the bed to re-roll her clothes and repack her bag. "Whichever comes first."

          "Sophia, what's your mama gonna say if she goes in this bag t' get something an' comes out with a grenade? She'll stroke out, that's what! This ain't safe for y' t' have an' y' know it," he scolded her as if she were his own. Gawd! He didn't want to think of what he'd do if something happened to the girl.

          "None of us are safe, Daryl," she protested. "Mama never goes in my things because she trusts me. Which really makes me feel even worse for hiding stuff from her, but don't y'all want me to be safe? Merle says I have to be able to protect myself if one of you can't do it for me."

          He raked his hand through his hair and paced the shabby carpet. "Never thought I'd see th' day I'd actually agree with m'brother."

          "So, I can keep my things? You're not going to take them away from me?" she asked hopefully.

          "Yeah, y' can keep 'em, but if your mama finds out, I don't know nothin' about it, y' hear?" She'd already saved them once at the CDC by being prepared. He couldn't in good conscience take that away from her.

          "Deal!"

 

*.*.*

 

          Rick pulled on the last board he and Daryl had nailed back in place over the front doors, testing it and finding himself satisfied with their work. "I don't think anything'll be able to get in here."

          Daryl nodded and tucked the hammer up on the shelf in case his brother might find a use for it when they returned. They already had plenty of tools tucked away in Dale's toolbox in the RV. "Thanks, man. Y' can go on out t' th' car if y' want."

          "You coming?"

          "Yeah … jus' want a word with Sophia first," he explained.

          Sophia, leaning against one of the display cases near the shaft entrance, perked up at that and watched Daryl with interest as he waited for Rick to go up on the roof before moving to her side. "What's up?" she asked as he took her pack from her.

          He dug around inside until he found Merle's gun. "I don't like th' idea of y' totin' this thing around if'n y' don't know how t' use it." He dug a silencer out of his pocket. "I took this from Merle's pack. It's jus' like th' ones I gave your mama. That way y' won't be drawin' no unnecessary attention if y' have to use it."

          Her impish smile caused one of his own to lift his lips. "You're really going to trust me with it?"

          Daryl snorted. "I'm trustin' y' not t' shoot yerself, girl. Don't disappoint me." He screwed the silencer onto the barrel, showed her how to draw back the slide to put a round in the chamber, flick off the safety, and how to hold it until she was ready to fire. "How's it feel?"

          Sophia swallowed some of her nervousness, wanting to appear brave. "Heavy. And my hand is sweating."

          "First time jitters, s'all. Look," he instructed, "rest your finger here until you're ready. Do  _not_  put your finger on th' trigger until you're ready to pull it. Don't snap it. It's a rookie mistake and you're gonna knock yourself off your aim. Hold your hands steady, aim and then curl your finger back. Got it?"

          "I think so. Merle was pretty vocal on 'deliberation' when he was teaching me how to handle my bow. Same principle it seems."

          "That's m' girl," Daryl said proudly. "Ain't nobody gonna hear with the silencer. Fire off a couple shots into that target over there."

          Sophia gaped at him in surprise, but stood ready for the task. The large Styrofoam doe with the target in its side was perched against the wall and really an easy shot. She staggered under the first, adjusting her footing for the next and fired four times. She didn't hit the bullseye with any of them, but she wasn't far off the mark.

          "That's pretty good. Better aim than your mama," he snickered. She beamed under his praise. "A'right, Soph, let's go."

          Carol stood with Lori next to the Cherokee chatting quietly when Daryl and Sophia began their climb from the roof. Her girl seemed over excited considering how maudlin she'd been just a few hours ago. It really shouldn't have surprised her. Daryl had an uncanny ability of making her feel better too. It made her happy to see Sophia growing closer to him.

          Sophia wound her arms around her mother's waist and squeezed. "You're so lucky, mom. I wish I was riding with Daryl."

          "Hey! What am I, chopped liver?" Carl snarked. "I thought you'd want to ride with me."

          Sophia pulled away from her mother and tossed an arm over her friend's shoulders. "Dude, seriously? If you had a chance to ride with me or on the back of Daryl's motorcycle … honestly, which would you choose?"

          "Motorcycle."

          "See?"

          Rick chuckled and ushered them into the back seat. "Alright, you two. Settle in and find something to do. It's going to be a long trip."

          Daryl frowned as he watched Sophia climb into the back of the Cherokee with Carl. It just wasn't right for her to be so far away from him and Carol. "She's going to be fine," Carol whispered as she came to stand next to him by the bike. "It's me you need to worry about. You'll hit a bump and I'll fall off and crack my skull open."

          "Stop," he growled. He checked her belt and zipped her jacket before climbing on and urging her to do the same. "Jus' swing your leg over, woman. Y' ain't gonna fall off neither, so stop your worryin'."

          Carol swung her booted foot over the seat and settled in behind him as he came down on the kickstart. Her eyes scanned the tree line beyond the parking lot. The bike really did make a lot of noise. Yet nothing came shambling out of the woods like they had last time they'd been there.

          The hunter shivered as she scooted closer, her breasts pressed flat against his back and her slender thighs cradling his hips. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea. How was he supposed to focus on the road with his woman molded to his back? Fuck slow! Where had that idea even come from?! Her arms wound around him, her hands moving to rest just above the buckle on his belt. An inch lower and she'd find a part of him applauding her tight grip. Gawd, it was going to be a long trip.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: MERLE! Gawd, I missed writing him. So, the bunker behind them, we're heading into canon …sorta. You know I'm going to bend it and twist it to suit my own plot :D. That's a good thing right? Lol. Hope you're all still enjoying the story. Lemme know what you think.


	27. Chapter 27

 

          He could almost pretend it was just an ordinary day if he tried hard enough. The sun was shining, hardly a cloud in the sky to threaten a leisurely ride. The trees they passed were a blur as was the occasional road sign pointing them north. Yet there was nothing normal about the passing pavement beneath the Triumph as they sped along. A normal day wouldn't have seen cars abandoned on the side of the road, a caravan of survivors behind him, or the sweet woman clinging to his back.

          "Y' a'right, woman?" he called over the rush of wind.

          She nuzzled her face further into his neck, her lips against the shell of his ear. "I'm ok, Daryl," she answered, and he could hear the smile in her sweet voice. Some of the rigidness of her posture had relaxed several miles back as she’d begun to feel more secure with him.

          He nodded, a faint smile at the corner of his lips as he felt her arms tighten about his waist. He didn't think he'd ever tire of having her on the bike with him, her warm weight immeasurable comfort to his beleaguered soul. It was just another in a long list of surprises concerning his woman. He'd never enjoyed riding with a passenger before, his back exposed and vulnerable to another person. He'd learned his lesson in that regard. Never leave yourself open.

          Daryl cursed under his breath. He should have known their steady progress for the last two hours would eventually come to an end. Only one small traffic pileup had delayed them so far, and even that had been minor. He slowed the bike and slowly brought it to a stop as his gaze took in the snarl of cars blocking their path. He never should have agreed to take the main highway, but Shane and Rick had been insistent, certain it would save them time rather than take the back roads with which Daryl was more familiar.

          Carol rested her chin on his shoulder. "Do you think we could go around?"

          He wheeled the bike around and headed back towards the others. He stopped next to Dale's window. The old man was already leaning out towards him. "Do you think we could make it through?"

          Glenn pulled out the map. "There's an interstate bypass a few miles back."

          Dale shot him down. "We can't spare the fuel. We have to see if we can get through this mess."

          Andrea came up front from where she was sitting at the RV's small table cleaning her gun. "We might be able to shift some of the cars out of the way," she suggested.

          "I'll go scout ahead. If th' opening behind me is big enough, come on through," Daryl said before turning the bike around again. He was getting that itch again, just beneath his skin. He hated that feeling. Nothing good ever came of him having that feeling, and it made him worry for his girls. He reached down and patted Carol's thigh. "Don't worry, we ain't goin' far, looks like."

          Carol clung more tightly to him as they moved amongst the detritus of scattered belongings which had spilled from the cars littering the highway. A little pink shoe … a teddy bear with its stuffing spilling from a large tear in its leg … a framed photo which must have been packed away in a suitcase, the glass shattered. These mementos were someone's lives, someone's memories, and now they were trash in a world gone to hell. It brought tears to her eyes, and she pressed her face to the crook of Daryl's neck, so she wouldn't have to look anymore. Oh god, what if Sophia were watching? Would Lori think to make the children avert their eyes? So much death, the occupants of the vehicles still in their seatbelts. It was a graveyard.

          Daryl pulled the bike to a stop and looked back at the loud whooshing coming from the RV, the radiator having sprung another leak. But he was more worried about Carol than any mechanical failure. He got off the Triumph and pulled her into his arms. "It's ok, they're dead. Don't know what happened t' 'em, but it don't look like they're comin' back.," he soothed, stroking his work-worn hand over her short-cropped hair.

          "Sophia is going to have to see this, Daryl. She's so strong, but she's still just a child," she whispered softly against his chest.

          He pulled back enough so she'd have to look up at him. "You're right. Sophia  _is_  strong, an' so are  _you_. Whether we like it or not, this is our world now. It's ugly, and it's scary, but we ain't no quitters an' we  _are_  gonna survive this."

          Dale and Glenn spilled out of the Winnebago and popped the hood to see what they'd be able to do with the mangled radiator hose. With all the vehicles on the road, they should be able to find a replacement. Rick and Shane, each bearing weapons, tried to get everyone organized to scavenge supplies. Except for Andrea, who couldn't seem to get her bearings. She remained listlessly next to the RV.

          Daryl took a gas can and hose from T-Dog. "We'll see what fuel we can siphon from these cars," he said to Rick. "Ain't like we gonna be stopping at th' Gas -n- Go anytime soon." He turned to Carol, a warning in his cobalt gaze. "Stay close. Don't go out too far, an' keep Soph with y' at all times, y' hear? I'll be within shoutin' distance."

          Carol smiled when she realized he was reluctant to let go of her hand and start on the job he'd set himself. "We'll be fine, Daryl, and Lori and Carl will be close. We won't be alone. Go," she encouraged him.

          Sophia gave him a smile as he nodded and left with T. "So, what're we doing, Mom?" she asked, her fingers lightly fidgeting with the bow slung across her chest. Her backpack and quiver were on her back, and the thick jacket Merle had given her was tied about her waist. She reached out and grabbed the back of Carl's shirt as he started to shuffle off. "Where you going?"

          "Just right there, Sophia, jeez! Why d'you have to be so bossy?" he grumbled.

          "Sophia's right, Carl," Lori admonished gently. "The two of you need to stick close."

          Carl rolled his eyes and adjusted the quiver on his back. Sometimes he just didn't understand his mother.

          Lori hugged her arms about herself and shivered. "I don't like this. It's like a graveyard. I feel like I'm disrespecting these people by going through their things."

          Sophia's voice was muffled as she was nose deep inside the back of an SUV handing things of use to Carl to stuff in a sack. "You're not going to survive very long thinkin' like that, Miss Lori."

          "Sophia!" Carol scolded. "Don't be disrespectful."

          "It's true Mom! I'm not trying to be disrespectful, just logical," the girl said, tossing her friend a value pack of disposable razors she'd found in a suitcase. "No one wants to have to do this, or defile the resting place of so many innocent people, but it's not like we have a choice anymore. It's fight or die. Otherwise go lay down in the grass and ring the dinner bell."

          Lori's eyes widened. "I think she's been spending too much time with Merle Dixon. She's sounding just like him, but she does have a point." She hugged the girl as Sophia hopped down from the bumper. "Thank you for putting it into perspective, sweetheart."

          Sophia hugged her back, beaming up at her. "We'll be ok … just need to stick together."

          Lori watched as Carl climbed into the back of a pickup and handed the sack to Sophia. "How'd your girl get to be so smart?" she asked Carol.

          Carol huffed a laugh. "Well she certainly didn't get it from Ed. But you're right, she's very smart. And observant. I suppose holding her tongue for so long made her pay attention to things other people miss. Merle brought her out of her shell, and I'll forever be grateful to him that he did."

          Lori unzipped a suitcase and tried to hide a small smile. "You seem to be slowly bringing Daryl out of his own shell. I wonder how you managed that," she teased.

          Carol blushed. "Not the way you're thinking."

          "Oh, yeah? Not availing yourself of all that Dixon charm?"

          "We're … getting closer, opening up more to each other. It's nice," Carol admitted. "I don't think I've ever had anyone treat me so well in my entire life, Lori. He's wonderful."

          "I'm just glad to see you so happy. It's hard to find happiness when things look so bleak," the brunette murmured, a small furrow appearing between her brows.

          Carol stopped pulling canned goods from the trunk she was going through and reached out to squeeze her friend's shoulder. "How are things with you? I saw you talking to Shane last night and he didn't seem happy."

          Lori sighed, dropping her gaze to her feet. "I had to tell him … again … that I want to be with my husband. And no, he wasn't happy with my decision, but he accepted it."

          "Did he? It's obvious he cares for you. I don't see how Rick hasn't picked up on it," Carol said. "But then, that poor man has been so busy trying to hold this group together, it's understandable, I guess."

          "I feel like a total bitch."

          "What? Why? Because you chose your  _husband_  over his best friend? It sounds like a bad episode of  _Passions_ , but without Tabitha and Timmy for the comic relief," Carol grinned.

          Lori couldn't help but laugh. "I know, it's awful. But me and Rick … we've been talking a lot since he came back. I don't want to throw away what we have because I was weak and decided to have a fling. I mean … I was told he was dead. You understand, right?"

          Carol linked her arm with Lori's and followed after the children as they moved on to the next vehicle. "It's not me who has to understand, Lori. You're my friend. I love you, and I'm not just going to turn my back on you because of decisions which don't even affect me. You're the one who has to live with your choices." She hugged her back warmly as Lori pulled her into an embrace. "I  _do_  think you made the right one, though."

          "I do too. I just hate that I hurt him. He got us out, kept us safe, cared for us just as Rick would. I can even forgive him for lying about Rick having died, but I can't be what he needs. I have to hold my family together … me, Rick, and Carl … Nothing is more important than how much I love them."

          "Lori! Lori!" Rick called in a panicked whisper. She turned wide fearful mocha eyes on him as he crouched low and hurried towards them, rifle in hand. "Walkers! Hurry, under the cars!" Lori latched onto Carol, obeying without hesitation and pulling her friend down with her.

          "Carl … Sophia! Under the cars. Now!" They too obeyed and he himself slipped to the pavement to seek shelter under an abandoned truck. He didn't have time to check on the others, and hoped Dale and Shane had been able to warn them.

          Carol trembled, her entire body quaking with fear as she tried to make herself small. Why was it so hard? She'd done it for years as she'd tried to hide her emotions, her true inner self from Ed. But she wasn't that person anymore. The weight of that knowledge hit her with the force of a locomotive. Really? Now as death encroached – for surely how would they ever overcome such a horde – some unseen power thought it was time for her to have an epiphany? The meek sniveling woman she'd been was a distant memory. She wasn't weak little Carol Peletier any longer. She was Carol Dixon, a fighter, a survivor, and though she was terrified, she didn't want to cower beneath that car with Lori. She wanted her daughter, she wanted Daryl. They were stronger together.

          Her eyes sought and connected with Sophia not more than ten feet from her. Her crystal blue eyes were wide with fear, but also with a determination she seemed to have adapted in this new life. Carl was at her side, their fingers entwined as they tried to remain as still and quiet as possible. It was imperative to their survival, and Carol couldn't have been prouder of their resilient nature. Seeing that any movement would prove deadly, she remained where she was at Lori's side, praying silently they would make it through their peril.

          "Andrea?" Lori mouthed.

          Carol couldn't think of their blonde friend at the moment, but shrugged to let Lori know she'd understood. Tears, she refused to shed, welled in her eyes as she thought of them all. After what Andrea had done – attempting to remain behind to die at the CDC – would she willingly sacrifice herself to the dead walking among them? Or had she found her will to survive buried deep within her? Dale … was he still atop the RV keeping vigil? Would he let them know when it was safe to come out? Glenn, Shane, T-Dog? Where were they?

          And where was Daryl? Carol bit down hard on her tongue to keep the sob building in her chest trapped there.  _Please, God, keep him safe. I can't do this without him. I need him. Sophia needs him. Please!_

 

*.*.*

 

          Where the hell had T run off to, Daryl wondered as he capped the gas can and tossed the hose down beside it. The whisper of a breeze was the only sound he could hear at the moment, and it was unsettling. There was something else, though … the sound of cloth dragging over the rough pavement of the road. He was almost afraid to rise from his crouched position next to the little red car. But he lifted his head to the breeze and inhaled sharply, no longer able to deny what his heart begged him to ignore. The smell of death, decay and putrid rot was in the air, and it was only growing stronger.

          In his life, he'd known fear quite a few times. He'd feared his father's temper, his belt, his fists; he'd feared some of the people Merle hung around with, he'd feared more things he refused to dwell upon, but he could honestly say he'd never felt his blood literally chill in his veins. He'd never felt the cold hand of dread grip his heart and threaten to freeze the air in his lungs. Yet now he knew both. Not for himself. He wasn't afraid of death, but the thought of losing Carol and Sophia had him nearly paralyzed with terror.

          He squinted narrowly against the sun, searching for any sign of them, but all he could see was the advancing herd. Had they fled? Had Rick somehow warned them in time and made them hide somewhere? He had to find them. His determination to make sure they were safe propelled him forward on crouched limbs, slowly making his way from the shelter of one car to the next, his bow on his back and his knife in his hand. A quick crabwalk to the left brought him out of the path of half a dozen, then to the right to avoid several more. He ducked back behind the tailgate of a pickup and froze. T-Dog lay against the side of a Toyota, his shirt stained with blood which was steadily pouring from his right arm. What the hell had happened to him?

          For an instant, he could have sworn he heard his brother's voice in his head.  _Y' oughtta leave 'is ass here like he left me on that roof._  He shook the thought off quickly. No, he couldn't leave one of their own behind. This was his group, what was slowly becoming a circle of friends. But Carol and Sophia needed him too.  _Fuckkkk!_  he growled inwardly as a walker shuffled around the hood of the car T leaned against, having smelled the fresh blood. Now he had no choice. He wasn't going to sit there and watch the man die. T was a good man, a friend whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not.

          And more geeks were coming, steadily growing closer. Any moment they would smell the blood scenting the air …  _coming, coming coming …Christ, they're almost here …Carol …Sophia …_

          T-Dog raised his defeated gaze to him, silently warning him to just go, but it only strengthened his resolve to help the man. He held a finger to his lips, cautioning the man to silence before he sprang into action, driving his knife deep into the base of the walker's skull. T looked as if he were about to pass out from blood loss, so it was easy to drag him into a prone position and dump his kill atop him. He had little time to waste. Trying not to think about what he had to do, he yanked another rotted corpse from the driver's seat of the car and pulled it atop himself as he hit the pavement. He hoped it would mask their scent from the approaching dead and give him just a bit more time to return to his girls.

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl instantly felt panic clutch his chest as he helped T-Dog back to where they'd parked the vehicles. Thankfully, the herd had moved through and there were none lingering about, but he could see the hysteria on some of the faces of his group. He left T in Dale and Glenn's capable hands and quickly moved off, looking for the others. Andrea was standing next to the RV, looking as if she'd come face to face with something nasty, her face spattered with blood. Carl was screaming at Shane to let him go, fighting against the former deputy's hold on the back of his shirt. And Carol … no!

          He ran to her where Lori was doing her absolute best to restrain her. "Carol!"

          She twisted free of Lori's grip, and threw herself into his arms, sobbing desperately against his shoulder. "Daryl! She's gone … my baby's lost in the woods, and –"

          "Where th' fuck is Rick?!" he growled, taking a quick glance around to note he was missing too. "How'd this happen?"

          "We have to go," his woman demanded, her voice like shards of ice tripping down his spine. "We have to find her." He'd never heard such steely determination like this from her before.

          "Hang on! I need t' know what we're dealin' with before I take y' out there!"

          Shane picked up his shotgun from the ground and breathed a sigh of relief as Lori wrapped an arm around her son, taking the boy off his hands. "Herd came through. We hid under the abandoned vehicles. Surprised the hell outta me, but it worked. We'd thought they'd all moved through, and –"

          "Sophia thought they were all gone," Carl cut him off, his eyes filled with tears as he turned his agonized gaze to Daryl. "I only let go of her for a second, Daryl, I swear! She thought it was safe!"

          Carol pushed herself out of his arms and dried her tears on the back of her hand. "She panicked. She panicked, and she ran into the woods with two of those things chasing her. Rick went after her, but we haven't seen him since," she said, pulling the .45 from her hip and checking the magazine.

          "A'right," the hunter murmured, hefting his bow into the crook of his right arm. "How long ago?"

          "Maybe ten minutes?" Shane said, not quite certain.

          Daryl looked down at the barely concealed fear in Carol's face. He wasn't having much success hiding his own. "I s'pose there's no hope you'd stay behind?" Her eyes narrowed, and she turned on her heel to slip past the guardrail. "Didn't think so," he growled as he set off after her. He caught up to her at the base of the incline. "Carol, wait damnit!"

          She whirled on him, her eyes flashing hotly. "You're  _not_  making me stay behind, Daryl. She's  _my_ daughter, and I have to  _try_  to find her."

          Anger welled hot and furious in his chest. "Y' think I don't want t' find her or somethin'? How could y' say that t' me?" He took her chin in a firm grip, holding her in place. "She might not be my blood, Carol, but that don't make her any less mine! Now pull your goddamn head out o' your ass and pay attention before y' get your fool self killed."

          His admission stunned her to her very core, and brought a bit of clarity to her befuddled senses. "Daryl, I didn't mean –"

          He dropped his hand and took a step back, not wanting her to see how badly her careless words had hurt him. "We ain't gettin' into this now," he hissed. "Sophia's out here alone. She might be trained up a bit, an' god knows she's armed t' th' teeth, but that don't mean she's gonna be thinkin' clearly. She proved that by runnin'."

          Carol squared her shoulders and tightened the grip on her gun. "She panicked, Daryl. We all did with a pack so big bearing down on us."

          "I'm not accusin' her o' nothin', woman. Now c'mon, we ain't getting' nothin' accomplished standin' around here arguin'. Keep your gun handy, an' stay by me. I don't need y' gettin' lost too," he grumbled.

          Daryl pushed his hurt feelings aside and concentrated on tracking the girl. Her small footprints were nearly obscured by others. One deeply imprinted in the ground must've belonged to Rick. He wouldn't be trying to keep his steps light if he were pounding through the brush trying to get to her with all haste. Two other sets; those must've belonged to the walkers who'd followed her down the incline ready for a tasty meal. There were spots where a foot had been dragged along behind a steadier tread.

          He grabbed the sleeve of Carol's jacket when she ventured left. He couldn't suppress a rush of pride as she followed the trail. At least he knew she'd been paying attention when he'd tried to teach her how to track.

          Her gaze swung to his. "But the tracks go this way, Daryl."

          "Two sets go off that way." He pointed to the others to his right. "But Soph's go off this way."

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol nearly shot Rick as he lumbered from the thick brush next to the creek. Daryl had been hunkered down inspecting the trail where it had thinned, and she'd be damned if she allowed anything to sneak up on him while he was distracted. She was already kicking herself for hurting his feelings with her offhand remark. How could she have known he felt so deeply for her daughter when he was so skilled at hiding his emotions? She just hoped she hadn't damaged their relationship.

          Rick stared at them, a pained expression on his grizzled features. "You seen her? I feel like I'm going around in circles out here."

          Daryl stood up and crossed the small stream. "No, but she cain't be far." He motioned for them to follow.

          "How can you even know which way she went?"

          "It's what he does, Rick," Carol murmured quietly, giving him a pointed look. She let Daryl get farther ahead before she stopped and leaned into the deputy so only he could hear. "You see him as a dangerous criminal … much like his brother, don't you? When you should be looking past his gruff exterior to see the man who has had to fight for everything just to survive."

          "Carol!"

          She left Rick standing there frowning to mull over her words. It would give him something to think about. Before she could reach Daryl, there was more noise coming from the direction they'd come, and she turned to see Glenn and Shane running towards them, both armed with rifles.

          "Y'all find her yet?" Shane asked, taking a quick look at their surroundings.

          "D'you see her?" Daryl snarled impatiently. "Why th' hell y' come down here t' muck up th' trail? Your big ass feet are gonna be stompin' all over any tracks she left!"

          Glenn shot him an agonized look. "We wanted to help, man. We care about Sophia too."

          Rick shook his head sadly. "I'm sure Daryl didn't mean it like that."

          "That's exactly –" His words cut off as Carol laid a gentle hand on his back. He looked down at her and felt himself calm. He didn't have time for this now, not when it was imperative they find their girl. "We jus' don't need too many out here right now. Not until I have a clear trail to follow."

          "He's right. Get back up to the highway and see what you can do to help Dale get the RV fixed," Rick said. "We aren't going to want to stay here any longer than necessary once we find Sophia."

          Shane nodded, and he and Glenn left them to carry out Rick's orders. Carol had already followed Daryl up the bank on the other side of the creek, and Rick hurried to catch up. He wasn't quick enough to avoid it and a branch smacked him in the face. It made him wonder how Daryl and Carol could move so silently and effortlessly through the trees without hardly disturbing a leaf. The two of them moved practically in sync, gravitating around one another like a planet with its moon, anticipating the other's movements. He never would have taken the former housewife to be so comfortable in such surroundings, especially when she had to be barely holding herself together.

          "How can you even tell there's a trail there," Rick mumbled, sticking close to them as best as he could. "All I see is dirt and leaves and mud."

          Daryl gnashed his teeth, but answered nonetheless. "Y' want a lesson in trackin' or y' wanna shut th' hell up an' let me find our little girl?"

          Carol squeaked in alarm, but managed to cut off the sound as she pointed. "Daryl, look."

          The hunter shot off through the trees as he caught a glimpse of gray, the other's not far behind. A grin spread out across his thin lips as he knelt next to the fallen walker and pulled the arrow out of its eye socket. "Well, at least now I know we're goin' in th' right direction."

          Carol smiled for the first time since Lori had shoved her under that car. "Maybe she took out the other one following her just as easily."

          Daryl was already scouting out the trail again while Rick looked down at the walker, amazed. "She did this? I know Carl and Sophia have been practicing with their bows, I just never thought to see one of them actually …"

          "Time t' start havin' faith in our kids, Rick. One day soon they're gonna be just as important t' y' as the adults. Shouldn't underestimate 'em because they got a lot more t' prove than we do," Daryl said, already leading them deeper into the woods.

          Carol frowned as Daryl stopped, her eyes searching the loam. "Her tracks," she breathed, feeling as if the bottom had dropped out of her stomach. "How could they disappear?"

          "What?" Rick groaned in surprise, kneeling down next to Daryl to look for himself.

          "No, they ain't gone … just faint."

          Carol let her eyes wander up, looking for any telltale signs Sophia might've left aside from her footprints. "There!" she cried softly, moving over to a sapling where a branch had been broken. "Could she have done this? Or am I just seeing what I want to be there?"

          Daryl smirked up at her. "Good eye." He was on his feet again, following more tracks past the small tree where they sank deeper into the mud. They were losing the light swiftly, and he couldn't bear the thought of returning to the others without her.

          Rick squinted down at the faint tracks and then cast his gaze up, of a like mind. "We aren't going to be able to see anything in another hour or so."

          Carol's eyes flashed murderously at him as she whirled to face him. "I'm not going back until we find my daughter. You can do what you want," she hissed, losing the thin shred of control she'd been clinging to. "She's lost, alone and frightened, and I will  _not_  leave her here."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So … did I do it justice? I really tried. Please let me know what you think.
> 
> I also wanted to apologize for not posting yesterday. We’re all getting ready for Smutfest 3.0 on Nine Lives, and I had two fics to edit before I could even start on mine. Yes, I’m cutting it close, aren’t I? Thanks for your understanding. 
> 
> Next time: Daryl and Carol have a tender moment, Merle finds Sophia's letter, the search continues, and someone is shot (but I ain't tellin' who!)


	28. Chapter 28

 

          Twilight was heavily upon them as they made their way back onto the road. It had gotten impossible to see the trail Sophia had left for him to follow, and his flashlight was in the pack still strapped to the bike. He watched Carol break down as Lori approached her, the brunette's arms taking her friend into a tight embrace as his woman cried. It would have been less painful to be ripped apart by a walker than to see her cry like that. He felt defeated and lost as he watched Rick's wife lead Carol into the RV, to accept comfort from her where she'd take none from him. To hell with that!

          Rick's hand on his shoulder kept him from following, however. "Maybe you should give her a minute."

          The redneck's shoulders slumped minutely. Carol was furious they'd had to give up the search when they'd lost the light. He'd practically had to drag her kicking and screaming from the woods. "She needs me," he said simply.

          "And I'm thinking she needs a minute to cool off."

          Daryl pulled out of his grip. "I'm thinkin' y' need t' fuckin' back off," he snarled. The stress and strain of losing Sophia, of failing Carol; it was all taking its toll on him, and Rick was a convenient outlet. "Y' got a whole group o' people just sittin' on their hands waitin' for y' t' tell 'em what t' do. I didn't ask for your advice, and I sure th' fuck don't want or need it."

          "Is that right?" Rick asked calmly, a small smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. "Well, you got it anyway. You go in there right now; she's going to do her best to shut you out. She's blaming herself for not being able to protect her daughter, and she isn't going to want to listen to a thing you've got to say."

          "It ain't her fault! She couldn't've done anythin' more without puttin' her own life in jeopardy," Daryl hissed, not wanting to draw any more attention from the others than they already had. "S'my fault! I shouldn't've left them alone. If she should be blamin' anyone, damnit, it's me!"

          Rick shook his head. "Naw, man, you can't think like that. It's no one's fault. Dale warned us the second he saw the first walker. He gave us the time we needed to hide. We thought they'd gone, and Sophia thought it would be safe to come out. It wasn't anybody's fault, Daryl."

          Daryl swallowed hard around the lump of suppressed emotion in his throat. Rick could say what he wanted, but the hunter would continue to blame himself for losing one of his girls. Not even Carol or Sophia herself could absolve him from that guilt.

          "We're going to find her, Daryl." Rick could see Daryl wasn't going to try to talk to him, and went to Lori as she stepped out of the Winnebago.

          Daryl watched them go and sit with Shane and Glenn where they had a small fire lit in the grass on the side of the road, heating tinned stew for their supper. His stomach rebelled at the thought of food. It didn't matter that he hadn't eaten since breakfast, the thought of Sophia out there in the forest all alone left him tied up in knots. He looked over at Lori where she sat with an arm around her son, and took her small nod as a beacon of hope. Would Carol even want to talk to him now?

          How could he have failed her like this? He'd had no doubt he'd fuck up, but never had he thought it would be because he couldn't protect them. It was the one thing he  _knew_  he was good at. He'd thought if he screwed up, it would be because he had no clue how to have a decent relationship with anyone. He never had before. Frankly, he just didn't like people. They never failed to disappoint. He'd been used enough in the past to know it firsthand. Carol was the first person to ever draw him in, to make him see she just wanted to be his friend. She'd never asked him for a thing, but cared for him because of who he was, not because of what he could give her or do for her. And at the first possible opportunity, he'd failed her.

          Well, he wasn't going to hide from her. Every instinct in his body was screaming at him to run from his mistake, to hide from the accusing light he knew he'd find in her lovely azure gaze, but he couldn't do it. Despite his shortcomings, he knew no one would be able to protect her like he would. No one would be able to find Sophia but him. She needed him, and he couldn't abandon her. He'd just have to suck it up – as Merle was so fond of telling him – and do what needed to be done.

          Daryl could hear her quiet sobs the second he opened the door and stepped inside. He paused there, closing the door behind him. He bit the inside of his lip, listening as she wept, feeling her pain as if it were his own. The itch returned to ravage his skin, his anxiety building, but he forced one foot in front of the other, making his way down the short hall to the bedroom at the rear of the RV. He watched her the entire time, wondering when he'd become so adept at reading her body language. Setting the crossbow against the wall, he eased himself down onto the mattress next to her feet, and waited, not wanting to intrude upon her grief.

          He was afraid to touch her, scared to open his mouth and release the dam of useless words stuck to the roof of his mouth. He felt useless, not knowing how to bring her the comfort she so desperately needed. There would be no way to fix this until he could bring Sophia back to her. And then she held out her hand behind her, held it out palm up in an invitation. She turned her head, and it staggered him to see such need in her eyes.

          Daryl's fingers slid over her palm, an undercurrent of electricity coursing up his arm as he let her pull him towards her. Their connection, borne on pure emotion, seemed to be as strong as ever, even amidst such tragedy as she curled up against his chest and buried her face into the crook of his neck. She gave out a little squeak as his arms went about her in a nearly bone-crushing embrace. "I'm sorry," he whispered, pressing his lips to her brow. "I should never have left you alone. I'm so sorry, Carol."

          "Don't you even think about blaming yourself," she whispered furiously. They might be alone in the RV at the moment, but it was still no reason to raise her voice to him despite her rising anger. "This was  _not_  your fault."

          "If I'd have been there –"

          "You would have been under the cars just like the rest of us, and then you wouldn't have had the opportunity to save T," she insisted. "There were just so many of them, there would have been no way to fight our way through that, Daryl. Not even you – with all of your skills – could have made a dent."

          "But I could have made sure Sophia didn't get far," he grumbled. He pulled back just a bit, so he could look down into her tear-stained face. "You really don't blame me?"

          "No," she shook her head. "And Sophia wouldn't blame you either, Daryl. She thought it would be safe to come out, and when she saw she wouldn't have the chance to draw on them, she ran. It's what you and Merle always told her to do if she couldn't safely use her weapons."

          His thumb brushed across the delicate skin just beneath her eye, chasing away a lingering tear. "I hate t' think o' her out there alone. She's smart an' brave, but that ain't always enough." He wasn't going to lie to her and tell her everything was ok until he could prove it would be. Carol was strong; she could take it, a lot better than any false platitudes he could tell her.

          "We'll find her," Carol whispered, burrowing deeper into his embrace. She closed her eyes and was still for a while before she found her voice again. "Daryl?" she asked, wondering if perhaps he'd fallen asleep.

          "Hmm?" The fingers of his left hand twitched where it rested against her nape, his thumb brushing against her ear.

          Her eyes sought his in the semi-darkness. "I'm sorry for what I said out there. I didn't mean to make it sound like you didn't care about Sophia. I know you do."

 _Aww, shit …now she wants t' talk about feelings,_  he groaned inwardly. He felt raw and battered from the events of the day, and now she wanted to pour salt in his wounds. "Y' should try t' sleep. Y' want me t' go get your quilt outta th' truck?"

          Carol actually smiled at him, seeing what he was trying to do. "No, I don't want my quilt … just you." She leaned up on her elbow and laid a gentle hand against the side of his face, her thumb caressing his bottom lip as he gnawed the tender inside. "I know you care, Daryl. For both of us. You wouldn't have done all this if you didn't." She didn't need to elaborate on how he'd saved them, because he knew. He didn't see it as any great feat, just what needed to be done, and it made her heart quicken.

          He tried to look away, the intense look in her eyes making his chest tighten, but she wouldn't allow it, holding firm with her touch. "Y'all are my girls, Carol, m' fam'ly. Of course, I care." He blew out an exasperated breath. "S'why it kills me t' think I failed y'."

          "You didn't, and I don't want you thinking like that anymore." She pressed her brow to his as his hands skimmed down her sides to wrap about her waist and pull her closer. "You could never fail me, Daryl." Before he could argue, she brought her lips to his, a soft caress of comfort which brought just a little touch of light to chase away the shadows which seemed to surround them.

          When she pulled away, he rolled her back to her side and tucked her head beneath his chin, not wanting her to see the naked emotion swimming in his eyes. "Try t' sleep, woman," he rasped, his voice heavy with feelings he didn't want to examine too closely. "I'll watch over y'. And we'll head out at first light t' bring our girl home."

          Daryl knew neither of them would likely sleep, but at least their bodies could rest enough to see them through what the next day would bring.

 

*.*.*

 

          "Where th' hell'd that come from?" Martine asked, squinting at the church van sitting at the back of the lot as she hopped on one foot trying to dislodge the rope ladder from behind the drain pipe. "Friends o' yers?"

          "No, sugar," he sneered, "but Daryl seems t' think so. C'mon an' get yer ass up that ladder before we end up with company we ain't got th' energy t' fight off."

          She didn't argue with him, knowing it was pointless. It was bad enough they'd had to leave the jeep and trek all the way back to the store on foot, constantly evading the two guys hounding their every step. She wondered – not for the first time – why they were so hell bent on following them. Merle shook off her hand as she tried to help him onto the roof. "Don't be an ass, Merle. Yer jus' as tired as I am."

          "Yeah, an' I can still run circles around y'," he growled.

          "Y' think yer people're still here?"

          The elder Dixon shook his head as he made his way to the hatch. "Naw … Daryl woulda had a watch posted up here if'n that was th' case." He switched on a small pocket-sized flashlight and climbed down the ladder, cursing the injured tendons in his wrist where he'd sliced into them with that screwdriver as he was freeing himself. His hand was still functional, but damn if it didn't hurt like a bitch every time he flexed his fingers. He'd probably be rotting away with infection if not for some of Marty's TLC. Maybe he should try to be a bit nicer to the girl.

          They'd had a thing years ago, and she was always willing to fall into bed with him when she was in between boyfriends, but they still fought like cats and dogs when they spent  _too_  much time together. His eyes raked over the storeroom as he exited the shaft, taking note of the missing artillery which had been hanging on the wall when they'd left out to search for Digger and Randy. Oh, yeah, his brother had definitely been there. What surprised him was that only half the merchandise was missing. He'd have taken it all if it were him.

          Marty noticed the grimace marring his features as he leaned his bad arm against the display case. "C'mon, Dixon, move yer ass. We need to get cleaned up, so I can re-bandage that arm." She didn't wait for him. God forbid he should think she was hovering. Florence Nightingale she definitely was  _not_. Didn't mean she liked seeing him in pain, especially after he'd been fighting so hard to keep her alive.

          He followed her downstairs and started the generator. It was then the smell of pine sol assailed his nose. "Yep, y' can tell Carol was here."

          "She cleaned?" Marty asked in horror.

          "Oh, yeah," he murmured, breathing deeply. "She does that, 'specially when she's nervous. Then again, it could jus' be all those fancy manners o' hers."

          She moved on ahead of him to her bedroom and stripped off her ruined jeans. "How'd Daryl manage t' land himself such a fine piece? And don't y' look at me that way, Merle Dixon. Y' know she way outclasses th' lot of us."

          But he wasn't paying any attention to her. He was focused on the pristine white envelope on the nightstand with his name scrawled across the front. He picked it up and dropped down onto the side of the bed with its pink camouflaged duvet neatly made up. He didn't hesitate to open it, dying to hear any news about his family.

          Merle glanced up when he caught Marty staring at him curiously. He cleared his throat and cast her a little smirk. "Why don'tcha go on an' get th' shower started fer us, sugar?"

          Marty shot him a sloe-eyed look and unfastened the buttons on her leather vest, letting it drop to the floor. "Y' gonna join me?" she asked, a sensual lilt to her voice.

          "If yer lucky.," he retorted.

          She snorted and turned on her heel, disappearing into the bathroom. "Don't be long, Dixon, or I won't let y' scrub my back."

          Merle had the letter open and unfolded before the bathroom door closed, his eyes hungrily scanning the words left by his little peach. He should have known she'd be the one to leave news for him. He wasn't expecting the deluge of emotions which assaulted him. They'd come back for him? Well, he really shouldn't have doubted Daryl would come for him, but it angered him to think Sophia blamed herself for talking him into going to Atlanta in the first place. Didn't she know he wouldn't have gone if he hadn't wanted to? He had been trying to do the right thing … for her.

          Benning, he thought, reading further. What the hell did they think they'd find there? Even the emergency broadcast system had crapped out after a while. There wasn't any military to help them if they even made it that far. He smiled as he read her loopy penmanship telling him she would try to leave him a trail of breadcrumbs to follow. Yet it was the last two little paragraphs which had an unfamiliar weight settling in his chest.

_And, Merle …please remember to be good. Don't let what you see or hear out there make you mean again. Don't let people you meet keep you from finding your family. We need you. I need you._

_And I love you. Don't forget._

_-Sophia_

          He couldn't remember his own mother ever telling him she loved him. His eyes burned as he thought of the girl. What was wrong with her?! Why would she say she  _loved_  him? He was Merle Fucking Dixon! He didn't need some snot nosed kid telling him shit like that. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes to quell the burning sensation behind them. Why would she do that?

          Because she was Sophia, his peach, the closest thing he'd ever come to having a little daughter or niece of his own, especially now the world had gone to hell. And she loved him … she needed him … and he was stuck at the bunker a day late because of those stupid fucks who'd been chasing his ass all over Atlanta for fuck knew why! Damn them! He knew one damn thing … they were dead the next time he laid eyes on them for keeping him from his family.

          "Merle, darlin', y' coming? The hot water's not gonna last forever," Marty called to him, her voice muffled through the bathroom door.

          A new determination replaced the anxiety in his chest. He peeled his clothes off – the fabric stiff with walker guts – and strolled into the bathroom to climb into the shower with Marty.

          "Y' seem a bit chipper considerin' the crap we've had t' put up with over the last few days," she cooed as she leaned her head back on his shoulder, already feeling the first sparks of lust igniting between them.

          He buried his face in the crook of her neck and nipped sharply with his teeth. "What's not t' be chipper about, 'eh? Warm shower, clean clothes, hot woman an' a shout in th' right direction."

          "Oh, yeah?" she sighed as his hands splayed over her belly.

          "Yep," he murmured, running the flat of his tongue up the slender column of her neck. "Tomorrow we're goin' t' find Daryl and our girls. An' I ain't givin' up til I do."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl forced himself not to tighten his arms around Carol as the door of the Winnebago creaked open and Rick stepped inside. It was nearly dawn; he could tell by the faint traces of pink following behind the former deputy. He put a finger to his lips, warning the man to silence as Rick sat down gingerly at the foot of the bed next to the hunter's feet.

          "Where's y' shadow?" he asked in a low whisper. The last thing he wanted was to wake Carol.

          "Who Carl? He's still asleep," Rick replied.

          Daryl snorted. "Naw … I meant Shane. I woulda called 'im your hemorrhoid, but Carol says I need t' be nicer."

          Rick swiped a hand over his face, letting it come to rest against his mouth to hide his grin. "He and Glenn are helping Lori scrounge up some breakfast. He means well."

          "Yeah, keep tellin' yerself that," the hunter drawled. "So, what's up?"

          "Just wondering when you want to get started. We got about a half hour before sun up." His gaze wandered to Carol nestled against Daryl's chest, a frown marring her smooth brow even in her sleep. "Y'all sleep at all?"

          Carol had wept on and off for hours, then she'd gotten angry and tried not to cry, relegating herself to those heart-rending hiccupping sobs which tore at him like fine shards of glass. Finally, she'd gone to sleep a mere two hours ago, listening to him tell her she didn't have to be strong just now. He would be strong for the both of them until he brought Sophia home. Pure exhaustion had pushed her into slumber, he was sure, not anything he said. "Not much," he said. Rick didn't need to know just how ill Carol had made herself.

          "Not at all," she mumbled, pushing herself into a sitting position.

          "Y' was fakin'?" Daryl growled.

          "Well, I was hoping if you thought I was asleep then  _you_  would try to sleep. Just goes to show how tired you are that you didn't notice I was faking." She shot him a smug smirk as his eyes narrowed before turning to Rick. "I didn't get a chance to thank you yesterday, Rick … for helping me and Daryl search."

          Rick shook his head and took her hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze. "There's no need to thank me, Carol. Sophia's one of our own and we're going to do everything we can to bring her back." He ignored the glare Daryl was sending his way due to his comforting hand in Carol's, but he was getting used to the archer's possessive streak where his woman was concerned. "Come get some breakfast when you're ready. Lori's using the last of the eggs and sausage you brought from the bunker before the ice in the coolers melt and it goes bad."

          Daryl finally sat up and pulled his boots on once Rick left. "We'd make better time if we didn't have that lot taggin' along muckin' up the trail," he grumbled.

          "Stop," she admonished gently. "You know the more of us searching, the better our chances of finding her."

          "Me an' Merle by ourselves coulda prob'ly brought her back last night."

          "But Merle's not here … no matter how we may wish otherwise, Daryl."

          He sighed heavily and picked up his crossbow, waiting for her to don her jacket and fasten her belt around her waist. "Yeah, an' don't think th' fucker ain't gonna get an earful when he finally catches up t' us."

          After a hasty breakfast, they split off into three groups. There was no way Daryl was going to be able to track anything with all of them right up his ass, complaining and stepping all over the trail Sophia had left, but he knew Rick wouldn't allow him and Carol to go it on their own. And she was right … they would have a better chance if they were all looking.

          "Daryl, d'you think I could go with you?" Carl asked. He could see worry in the boy's eyes. He must be going a little bit crazy without his friend, and the hunter couldn't find it in his heart to tell him no.

          "S'up t' your mom and dad, but yeah, y' can go with me an' Carol if y' want," he said, fiddling with the strap of his bow.

          Lori looked skeptical, not wanting to let the boy out of her sight, but Carol nudged her shoulder gently, and her hesitance waned. "You sure?"

          She nodded. "Carl will be safe with us. You know Daryl wouldn't let anything happen to him."

          Rick found he didn't have any qualms about letting his son go off with Daryl either. He'd seen firsthand how the redneck protected those in his charge. "Alright then. Carl's with Daryl and Carol. Andrea, Glenn and Lori will make up another group, and that leaves Shane with me. T-Dog, being injured as he is, will stay back with Dale and try to get the RV fixed. Any questions?"

          Daryl shook his head and started off down the incline without waiting to see what their leader had to say further. He was reeling over the second group. What the hell were they going to do if they ran into any walkers.? It didn't matter if they were armed. They had no training, no survival instinct. They'd be the next bunch he'd end up hunting in the woods.

 

*.*.*

 

          Rick swiped a hand over his face, ridding it of some of the sweat pouring from his brow, before reaching for his canteen. It was now midday and the heat was nigh unbearable. He felt as if he and Shane were going around in circles as they continued their search for Sophia, and he readily admitted he was no tracker.

          He passed the canteen to his partner and came to a stop, letting his gaze take in their surroundings. "Daryl's the only one who has a chance of finding that little girl, y'know? We're not doing a damn bit of good out here unless she jumps out of the trees and screams 'Here I am!'," he lamented sourly.

          "C'mon, man," Shane drawled, handing the vessel back to Rick. "You can't think that way. We can cover more ground by splitting up, and you know it." He hung his head, letting his chin rest against his chest. "I hate to think of her out here by herself. She's a tough kid, but all I can think of is her scared and alone."

          Rick started moving again, raising his leg high to step over a fallen tree. "You care about her," he said more than asked.

          Shane nodded as he followed. "Yeah, I do. Her and Carl are pretty close, so I've gotten to know her pretty well. You should have seen her when we first met. She definitely ain't the same kid."

          Rick stopped and looked back at his friend with a puzzled smile. "Yeah? We haven't really had time to talk with everything going on … how'd you even form this particular group? I mean, they're all so diverse."

          "Diverse or not, we were all stuck on the highway headed to the refugee centers in Atlanta." He turned his head, gazing off into the trees, his expression pained. "When the planes flew overhead, me and Lori … we headed into the trees where we could get a good look at where they were going, y'know? The city was dark, eerie in the moonlight. You could barely make out the buildings against the skyline … until the first bombs hit."

          "Oh, shit, man … you saw it?"

          Shane nodded. "Yeah. After the shock wore off, all I could think about was getting Lori and Carl somewhere safe. I remembered the quarry from that call we made out there a few months before your accident. You remember the fight between that foreman and the gravel hauler … nevermind. I just got as many people as possible to follow us there."

          "You saved them," Rick murmured softly. "They were lucky you were there that night. So, tell me how Sophia was different."

          They kept their voices low. No sense in inviting trouble in case there were more walkers in the woods. It had been too long since they'd been able to enjoy the easy camaraderie of their friendship.

          Shane frowned. "She was so withdrawn and quiet, like a little mouse, always hiding behind her mama. She was scared of everything. I think Carol was too, but she was better at hiding it. Took Carl about a week to draw that little girl out of her shell where she'd talk to everyone … least when her daddy wasn't around. Then the Dixon brothers showed up."

          "What made you let them stay?"

          He snorted. "I didn't really want to, man, but they were just like us in the respect they needed somewhere to go. Didn't hurt that they were able to provide some much-needed meat for the cook fires. Sophia was instantly taken by Merle, fascinated. She followed him around like a shadow. I don't even know when it happened, but the next thing I know, she's talking and laughing and playing with the other kids like she's a different girl. Wasn't too long after that, Carol struck up a friendship with Daryl. She was different too, and then I told you about what happened with Ed."

          Rick nodded sagely. "You did right by them … all of them. I know I'll never be able to repay you for what you did for my family, brother."

          "Damnit, man, I told you. You don't have to keep thanking me," he said, rubbing a hand over his nape. "You're my best friend; you woulda done the same for me."

          "I know you didn't leave me there on purpose, Shane," Rick murmured, noting the guilt spread across his friend's dusty features.

          Shane stopped and propped his free hand against his hip, pain evident in his dark eyes. "I tried … you gotta believe I tried to get you out. But there was so much going on. The hospital was overrun with walkers; the military were shooting innocent people in the corridors … I barely got out of there after making sure they couldn't get to you. And then … I just thought it would be best to tell Lori you'd died. You know she wouldn't have left if she’d thought there was still a chance."

          Rick closed the distance between them and laid a hand on Shane's shoulder. "It was a tough call … but it was the right one."

          "I really didn't think I was lying to her, y'know? If you'd seen what happened that day … I couldn't believe it when you showed up at the quarry. I –"

          A strangled cry burst from Rick's open mouth as blood splattered over his face. The gunshot had come out of nowhere to shatter the tranquil silence of the forest. He stared down at his best friend lying against the scattered leaves, blood spreading in a pool against his t-shirt. "Shane!"

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next time: The search for Sophia continues, Rick meets Hershel and his family, and Carol collapses. Oh, we have lots more to come! Hope you all enjoyed! Please review!


	29. Chapter 29

 

          "How d'you know where we're going?" Carl asked, one of the many questions he'd been spewing over the last several hours. Daryl ripped the shop rag from his back pocket and wiped the sweat from his face. He was tempted to gag the boy.

          Carol cut him off before he could let his irritation show. "Because he's following Sophia’s tracks."

          "But you can hardly see anything," he protested, looking up at his mother's best friend. "Just dirt and mud and stuff."

          She pulled him down next to her to crouch in the leaves, and pointed. "Look there, Carl … the leaves are overturned and there …" She edged her finger over a depression. "See how they're mashed into the mud, it's a footprint. Or a half a print at least."

          Daryl smirked at her, impressed with the knowledge she'd retained and the fact she was steadily improving. And her patience – patience he never thought to possess himself – was simply unparalleled.

          "Shoulda let y' go off with yer dad," he grumbled quietly.

          Carl snorted. "Wouldn't have had a chance to learn anything if I'd gone with dad," he mumbled, chancing a glance up at the hunter. "He'd just tell me to be quiet and stick close. I love my dad, but sometimes I don't think he can tell the difference between me and a trained puppy. Besides, I want to be with you when you find Sophia."

          "Y' really wanna learn t' track, huh?" he asked seriously, studying the boy.

          Carl nodded, his little face devoid of any pretense. "I do. I want to learn like Sophia. I want to be strong and know how to defend myself. Help protect the group."

          Carol ruffled his hair gently. "You already are, Carl. You and Sophia can give half the adults in our group a run for their money."

          Daryl led them further into the trees, his eyes trained on the trail before him. "He's right, though, Carol. This group needs t' be trained up a bit. Bunch o' damn marshmallows … too soft. Gonna get themselves killed."

          Carl grinned at the reference, but quickly it faded when Daryl brought them to a stop and shoved him and Carol off behind a tree. "What is it?" he whispered, his eyes wide and his grip tightening on his bow.

          Daryl held a finger to his lips and pointed to a flash of dull olive green off into the brush. "Stay behind me," he warned. "Not a sound, an' stay outta sight."

          Carol squinted against the sunlight and peered in the direction he indicated, slowly making out the form of a tent in the distance. Her heart sped up with hope. Maybe Sophia had taken refuge there for the night, she thought frantically. It was all she could think of, and she would have blindly run ahead if Daryl hadn't have reached out and wrapped a restraining hand over her wrist.

          "Didn't y' hear what I just said, woman?" he hissed. "Y' can't jus' run off like that, damnit!":

          She bit her lip, realizing her mistake, though her instinct urging her to disobey was still strong. "Sorry … but what if she's there? I can't just stand here and –"

          "But y' will," he said, his tone brooking no objection. He didn't give her a chance to protest further, stepping through the trees and edging closer to the tent. There was nothing but the foul stench of death surrounding the structure. "Sophia!" he called, not allowing himself any false hope she'd be there.

          When he deemed it safe enough, he waved Carol and Carl over – motioned them to stay put – and slowly approached the tent flap, unzipping it. He recoiled from the smell, but didn't let it stop him from entering. His eyes did a quick scan before returning to the corpse lying back in the camp chair, the hole in its temple making it clear he wasn't going to try to take a bite out of him. He bit back a wave of disappointment at not finding his girl. Not wanting to linger a second longer than necessary, he took the .38 from the man's hand and left the tent.

          "Did you find anything?" Carol asked anxiously.

          He shook his head and thrust the handgun in Carl's direction. "Keep ahold o' this until I can show y' how t' use it later."

          Carl's big blue eyes widened further. "Y-You trust me with this?"

          "Until y' give me a reason not t'." Daryl leaned his face close to the boy's. "Don't disappoint me."

          Carl gulped and nodded slowly.

          "Did you find anything else?"

          His gaze settled on Carol as they left the tent behind, easily picking up Sophia's trail again. "Our friend back there … opted out, but there was no sign our girl went inside. The smell probably warned her off. Although that same smell would've disguised her own if she'd decided to bed down there. Woulda kept the geeks away."

          "Daryl, look!" Carl cried, running forward and crouching next to a fallen tree.

          Daryl cursed at the kid's impulsive nature, and followed, hunkering down next to him. He took the small pink and yellow friendship bracelet with the alphabet letters woven among the strands of thread to spell out 'Dixon'. She'd made it not long after she and her mother had moved into Merle and Daryl's camp and never took the damn thing off.

          Carol grinned. "She's leaving breadcrumbs, Daryl," she breathed, smiling for the first time all day.

          "I think you're right," he agreed. The bracelet had been untied, not torn or cut off. She'd left it there for them intentionally.

          Their hope was short-lived as the blast of a rifle cut through the tranquility of the forest. Carl swung around and looked towards the direction the shot had come from, and Carol lifted her hand clutching her .45.

          "Damnit, I told 'em not t' be shootin' off those guns," Daryl cursed. "They're gonna bring a herd down on us."

          Carol and Carl didn't say anything as they set off after him, hurrying to match his pace.

 

*.*.*

 

          "Oh, my god! Shane!" Rick stammered, panic rising up to choke him as he ripped the hem of his t-shirt and pressed it to the wound in his friend's side. This couldn't be happening, he thought direly, ignoring the moan of pain when he pressed down too hard. "Stay with me, Shane. Don't you fucking do this to me, man!"

          Rick whirled as lumbering footsteps sounded behind him, quickly drawing the Colt from his side and leveling it at the man who appeared. He was of average height – if not girth – and threw his hands up, shotgun held aloft. The former deputy should have been able to see he really was no threat, taking in the waxen pallor and large, startled, almost fearful eyes.

          "Is he ok? Did I really sh-shoot him?" the behemoth cried, looking as if he were on the verge of tears. "I swear it was an accident! I was just out huntin'. Man, please don't let him be dead!"

          "Put the gun down and back away from it!" he commanded, refusing to lower the Colt.

          Shane moaned through his unconscious state and Rick hazarded a glance down at the rapidly growing puddle of blood seeping out of him.

          "He still alive?!"

          "Not for long if I don't get him some help," Rick hissed, putting his gun away and focusing on his friend.

          The man inched closer and knelt down on Shane's other side. "If we can get him to Hershel, he might be able to fix him up."

          Rick's attention perked up at that. "This Hershel … he a doctor?"

          The man winced. "Sorta … c'mon, I know he could help him. My truck's not far." When Rick still hesitated, glancing between the man and Shane, he shot him a pleading look. "It might be his only chance, and I don't want to be responsible for his death."

          "Grab his legs."

 

*.*.*

 

          It took them nearly an hour to backtrack to the others. Glenn actually looked rather relieved to see them, even though Daryl's face looked like a thunderstorm. "Who th' hell's firin' their gun? Are y'all  _tryin'_  t' bring another herd down on us?"

          Andrea clucked her tongue and braced her hands on her hips, clearly irritated with his high-handed tone. "It wasn't us," she said defensively.

          Lori shook her head. "It might've been Rick or Shane, but we haven't been able to find them."

          Glenn removed his baseball cap to wipe the sweat from his brow before plopping it back onto his head. "We've just been trying to head in the direction we heard the gunshot."

          "Well, at least y'all got some sense," Daryl growled. "C'mon, then, let's go."

          Lori moved over to Carol's side as the hunter took the lead through the forest, not sticking to any particular trail. "Hey, are you alright? You look dead on your feet."

          Carol chuckled, a bitter sound which cut right through her friend. "Doesn't matter how I feel, Lori. My daughter is lost and alone out here." Her voice was whisper soft and laden with tears she refused to shed. "I just have to find her … then I'll be fine."

          Daryl's smoky gaze caught hers as he glanced over his shoulder, having heard her. A knife to the gut would've been less painful than seeing the anguish written clearly on her features, but he was encouraged by her strength. He'd thought she would have needed rest long before now. "Carl! Get your ass up here with me, man. C'mon!"

          Lori gaped as her son flew past her to heed the hunter's call. "Carl Grimes, is that a gun sticking out of your pants?!"

          Carl stopped in his tracks, but Daryl grabbed the back of his shirt and kept the boy moving. "He's holdin' onto it for me until I can teach 'im how t' use it. All o' y'all are gonna be learnin' how t' use one soon as we can find a place t' hole up."

          "But … did you ask Rick if –"

          Daryl whirled on her, his eyes narrowed, and his upper lip drawn back into a sneer. "D'you  _see_  Rick anywhere? The boy was put into  _my_ charge, an' it was my call t' make. Now move your ass!"

          Carol linked her arm with Lori's and pulled her along as Andrea fell into step beside them. "Is he always like this? I don't remember him being quite so  _vocal_ when we were at the quarry."

          Carol smiled, the soft look in her eyes focused on the back of Daryl's head. "He's the quiet one actually. Merle is the louder of the two, but Daryl's not going to shy away from duty either." She grinned at Andrea. "Don't take it personally."

          "But he gave Carl a gun, Carol," Lori snapped in a furious whisper.

          "Which he wouldn't have done if he didn't think the boy would be responsible with it. Daryl can see it in him, Lori. Our kids are going to have to grow up in this madness, and the only way they're going to survive is if we teach them how."

          Andrea shifted the rucksack on her shoulder. "Well I'm more than willing to learn if he's so gung-ho to teach us."

          Glenn sidled up to them, his brow furrowed. "Shouldn't we have run into Rick and Shane by now?"

          Lori frowned at him. "You're right. We should have met up with them a long time ago."

          Carol fought to keep her eyes open. She knew well enough she wasn't going to be any help if they stumbled upon another herd. Exhaustion pulled at her limbs and she couldn't help but wish for a place to lay her head. But she refused to stop … not until they found Sophia. She jerked to a halt when Daryl crouched down up ahead of them.

          She left the others and moved to his side, seeing the dark red stain on the forest floor for herself. "Is that –"

          "Blood," he said, meeting her eyes. He reached out and grasped her hand reassuringly. "Now don't go thinkin' the worst, woman. There ain't nothin' sayin' it's Sophia's."

          "Daryl –"

          "It could be an animal or somethin’."

          "Daryl –" Carl tried again, tugging on the back of his shirt.

          "Or maybe –"

          "Daryl!"

          "For fuck's sake, what?!"

          Carl pointed off through the trees. "Deer," he grinned.

          The hunter groaned, taking in the downed buck. Flies had already begun to buzz incessantly in the heat. "Shit, the smell o' blood's gonna bring every walker within a mile. We need t' get outta here before we lose th' light anyway."

          Carol turned her pleading blue gaze up to him. "Daryl, we can't leave yet."

          He didn't miss the slur to her words as he helped her rise to her feet. A frown creased his brow as he studied her. She was nearly asleep on her feet. "Yeah well, we ain't gotta choice. We cain't be stumblin' around here in th' dark, an' y' need t' get some rest."

          The rest of the group followed after them, Carl never far from Daryl's left, his bow in one hand and a bolt in the other, ready to prove himself. The hunter had a hard time suppressing a grin for the boy. He really was trying. His parents should be proud of him instead of constantly coddling him, he thought. Daryl worked hard to move them all back towards the highway where Dale and T-Dog were waiting, but his worried gaze continued to drift back to the woman at his side. She was flagging, despite the effort she made to remain on her feet.

          They were maybe a hundred yards from the road when he pulled her behind a tree and took a stance with his crossbow, the thundering of hooves meeting his ears. Who the hell would be galloping full speed through the forest when there was the threat of walkers about? Daryl surmised the girl had to be in her early twenties with her short chestnut hair and lithe frame. What surprised him, though, was her blatantly ignoring the bow he had pointed at her head.

          "Lori? Lori Grimes?" she called, clearly agitated when they just stared at her silently. "Is one of you Lori Grimes?"

          "I am," the brunette said, stepping forward. "What –"

          Maggie Greene cut her off. "Rick sent me to get you. There was an accident and his friend was shot. Rick's little better. My dad thinks he's suffering a mild case of shock. You need to come with me."

          Daryl's hand shot out and caught her wrist when Lori immediately moved to mount behind the girl. "You can't just run off with her! You don't even know her!"

          Lori shook him off and hefted herself onto the horse's back. "Rick needs me. I  _have_  to go." She looked to Carol and Andrea. "You'll watch over Carl?"

          "Of course," Andrea said, looping her arm around the boy's shoulder.

          Maggie shot the hunter a steady look. "Backtrack to Fairburn road, two miles down is our farm. Look for the mailbox … Greene." Without another word, she wheeled the horse around and took off through the woods without a backward glance.

          "Fuck!" Daryl growled. "This is what th' fuck happens when we split up." He stalked off through the brush once more, several feet before he realized Carol wasn't beside him. He turned in time to see her legs crumple beneath her. "Carol!"

 

*.*.*

 

          "Outta m'way, old man," Daryl snarled viciously at Dale as T-Dog held the door open on the RV. He didn't care if he hurt the man's feelings. Carol was first and foremost in his mind and the need to care for her in a semi-safe environment. He laid her gently on the bed which took up most of the space in the back of the Winnebago and rested his ear against her chest. The steady thump thump of her heart was a soothing balm to his shattered nerves, and he was able to breathe his first easy breath since lifting her unconscious form from the forest floor.

          "What happened to her? Was she bitten?" T-Dog asked, peering past Dale's shoulder into the room.

          "Naw, she ain't bit," Daryl replied, removing the boots from her feet and arranging her still body more comfortably against the pillows. "She collapsed from exhaustion is my best bet."

          Dale, of course, was a fountain of questions. "Where are the others … Rick, Lori and Shane? Why didn't they come back with you?"

          Daryl turned on them, getting to his feet and glaring at Dale. "Cain't y' go nag somebody else for answers? I kinda got my own problems right now!" It was then he got a good look at T. "What th' fuck happened t' you?"

          Dale – never letting the hunter's temper rile him – nodded to T-Dog's arm. "He's got a blood infection. We need to find some antibiotics soon or-"

          Daryl shook his head and brushed past them. He needed to go to the truck anyway to fetch Carol's quilt. They were waiting for him when he returned moments later with a nondescript bottle he pushed into T's good hand. Glenn was just finishing filling Dale in on what had happened in the woods. "Take two o' those an' then one every four hours. If you'd bothered t' look through th' supplies, you'd have found th' bag Carol packed with medicine an' first aid stuff from the bunker."

          Andrea joined them and winced at the sight of T-Dog's injury as she pulled the makeshift bandage back. "You need to have this cleaned and stitched." She turned her gaze to Daryl. "You think that man who's taking care of Shane could perhaps fix T up?"

          Daryl shrugged. "I dunno. Worth a shot." He looked at Glenn. "He can go with y' when y' bring Carl t' his parents."

          "What? I thought we were all going," Glenn protested. "Why just the three of us?"

          "Because we need t' reconnect with our people an' I ain't leavin'. What if Soph finds her way back an' I ain't here?" His gaze wandered back to the RV where his woman slept. "I cain't just leave."

          Dale nodded, understanding how he felt. "No one wants to leave her out here alone, Daryl. Glenn can go tonight, and we'll follow in the morning. We can rig up a sign telling Sophia to wait for us, and leave her some supplies."

          Daryl clutched the quilt in his hand and moved to the steps of the RV. "Well … get to it, Short Round," he said, ignoring the boy's scowl. "Carl, grab your pack, boy. You're ridin' with Glenn and T t' th' farm."

          "Awww, man, can't I stay with you and Carol?"

          The hunter's eyes narrowed. "What I said?"

          "Yes, sir," Carl grumbled.

          Daryl left them all standing about and climbed into the camper. His entire body hummed with anxiety, and no matter how much he might have wanted to cave to the boy's wishes, he just couldn't share his focus. Carol needed him, and he wasn't going to fail her again.

          He spread the quilt over her and sat down beside her on the edge of the mattress. It was the only item she'd wanted from Ed's tent after his death, the only thing worth keeping from her old life. Carol had made it herself when she'd been pregnant with Sophia, and it provided a steady reminder of happy times she could look back on to share with her daughter. His chin dropped to his chest as he leaned his forearms against his knees.

          "Y' cain't do this t' me, woman … y' cain't leave me, y' hear?" he said, his voice no more than an agonized whisper. He doubted she'd be able to hear him even if she had been awake. He probably wouldn't have had the fortitude to speak the words aloud if she had been. It was still difficult to put voice to his feelings for this woman. He turned to look at her, her features serene as she slumbered. "Don't leave me, Carol."

          Daryl swiped angrily at the moisture pooling in his eyes. He felt helpless, and he wasn't strong enough to fight off his father's voice in his head.  _Useless, worthless, never amount t' anything …cain't even keep yer woman safe. She's gonna die out there an' there ain't a damn thing yer gonna be able t' do t' stop it. Just like that little girl. Yer gonna let 'em down just like y' always do, boy._

          He shook his head, dropping it into his hands. No, he wasn't that same kid who used to think his father was right, that he  _was_  useless. Carol made him stronger, made him see that maybe he was a good man buried beneath his harsh exterior. He still couldn't believe he'd been lucky enough to find her at the end of the world, or fortunate enough to have her see through the rough exterior to the man beneath. He'd never had anyone touch him as she had, especially on an emotional level so deep it scared him. He couldn't lose her now. Not now that he'd found her.

          And if he didn't find Sophia, he surely would. It would destroy her. Hell, it wouldn't do him a bit of good either since he'd come to care for the girl. But he couldn't let himself dwell on that. He had to believe he'd find her. He'd find her or die trying, because he sure as shit wasn't giving up on her.

          Carol shifted in her sleep, turning on her side, giving him hope as one word fell from her parted lips. "Daryl …" she murmured sleepily, her hand searching for him across the cool sheets.

          "Shh, I'm here," he answered, kicking his boots off and stretching out beside her. She didn't wake, her exhaustion too great, but he felt an overwhelming sense of relief to know she would be alright. His arms wrapped tightly about her as she curled into his chest and sighed, her warm breath ghosting across his collarbone in a silken caress. Only then did he let his own weariness invade his body, giving in to the rest it craved.

          Tomorrow … tomorrow they would find their girl and begin the next leg of their journey … together.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next time: The group meets up at the farm and settles in, and Carol and Daryl continue the search.


	30. Chapter 30

 

          Daryl blew out a plume of smoke and then stubbed out his cigarette beneath his boot as he frowned at the message he'd written on the windshield of the old '69 Ford Mustang. On the hood, he'd piled a box of saltines, a jar of peanut butter and a box of granola bars along with four bottles of water. By some miracle Sophia did find her way back to the highway, she wouldn't miss it, and knowing her, she'd sit tight until they checked back. But damnit, he hated the idea of leaving. He had a feeling his woman wasn't going to like the idea either.

          Satisfied – if not entirely happy – with his work, he moved back to the Hyundai Shane had been piddling with the day before. There wasn't much wrong with it, and it would provide them with a spare vehicle. No sense in leaving it behind. If the deputy recovered from his gunshot wound, it would be his. Maybe he'd take it and leave the group. Things had to be strained between him and Lori now that Rick was back.  _Fuckin' soap opera bullshit!_  He knew Carol and Lori were thick as thieves with their friendship, but his woman wouldn't budge when it came to keeping Lori's secrets. She wouldn't even share with  _him_ , and she told him everything.

          He closed the hood, the small SUV now roadworthy, and cleaned his hands on the shop rag he kept in his back pocket. He eyed the back of the vehicle and then glanced over his shoulder at the water truck they'd happened upon the previous day when they'd been scavenging. He should be able to fit several five-gallon containers in there, right? He waved at Dale – who was keeping watch atop the RV – and went around to pop the hatch before going over to the truck. He was nearly there to grab the first container when Carol's scream rent the air.

          Daryl felt his heart plummet straight down into the soles of his boots as he ran towards the camper. He waved Dale off as the man started climbing down the ladder. "I got it!" They didn't need the old man intruding on what was sure to be a stressful moment, and  _someone_  had to keep watch with it just being the three of them. The entire RV shook under his pounding steps as he burst through the door and made his way back to the small bedroom where Carol thrashed about, completely enslaved by her nightmare.

          "Daryl!"

          He didn't hesitate, her heart wrenching sobs tearing him apart. He dropped down onto the mattress and reached for her flailing arms, capturing her wrists in a firm but gentle grip. "Carol … Carol, wake up," he said, pinning her to his chest to keep her from hurting herself. "C'mon, woman. I'm here … it's just a nightmare."

          Daryl knew the moment she woke, the second the nightmare released her, because the tears came in a deluge of pain. Every last one of the hot salty drops cut him. He could feel her pain as if it were his own and he felt helpless to fight off her sorrow. His only recourse to comfort her was to let her cling to him and soak his shirt, to offer her the refuge of his arms where she knew she was safe.

          "It wasn't just a nightmare," she sobbed. "Sophia is really gone … lost … alone … and I can't stand it."

          And he couldn't stand the sight of her grief. He carefully cradled her face in his warm palms and made her look at him. "So, what're y' gonna do about it? Y' want our girl t' come home?"

          Her eyes blazed with inner fire. "How can you ask me that?! Of course, I want her to come home to us!"

          "Then y' have t' be strong, Carol. I'm not tellin' y' how t' feel; I know it's killin' y', but y' need t' lock that fear up inside an' focus on us findin' her. I  _will_  bring her home t' y'," he vowed.

          She softened and wrapped her arms around his waist, burrowing her face against his chest. "I know you will."

          He pulled her the rest of the way onto his lap and held her tighter, offering all the support she so desperately needed. "Sophia is a Dixon, Carol … jus' as much as y' are. She's strong, an' far more intelligent than some adults I know. Look at how she got away from Ed at th' quarry, or how quick-thinkin' she was at th' CDC. Hell, woman, she saved all our asses. Y' think she cain't survive a few days in th' woods on 'er own?"

          Carol dried her tears on her sleeve and blinked up at him. "Merle taught her well," she whispered.

          "Damn straight." He pressed a quick kiss to her brow and offered her a rare smile. "Now put yer boots on. We're gonna go meet up with th' others at this farm where Rick is holed up an' then we're gonna go out an' look for our girl."

          "And you're going to find her, Daryl. I know you are."

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol followed behind Daryl on his bike, Dale bringing up the rear in the RV. Andrea had already taken the truck while Glenn had driven the Cherokee the night before. Her protector hadn't been thrilled about her driving the Hyundai, but they hadn't had a choice in the matter. He'd wanted to send one of the others back for it, but she'd argued about the waste of fuel when she could easily drive the vehicle. After what had happened to Sophia, she could understand his reluctance to let her out of his sight, but fuel was a precious commodity, and she wasn't going to let him leave it behind because of his anxious nature. They would be fine, she'd mused, and as they pulled down the long driveway to the picturesque farm in the distance, she felt a bit smug that she'd been right.

          She pulled in next to Daryl and quickly cut the engine as he opened the door and took her hand. She instantly felt some of her tension drain away, his cool touch soothing to her frazzled nerves. Her worry for Sophia was like a living entity of its own, and coupled with the thought of meeting new people, she was worn thin.

          Lori bolted down the front steps where she'd been sitting with Rick and Carl, dragging Carol into a fierce embrace. "I'm so glad you're here."

          Carol returned it and pulled back a bit to take in her friend's ragged appearance. "How's Shane? Is he –"

          The brunette swiped at a few tears and took a deep breath as she wrapped her arms about her thin frame. "Rick and Otis went on a run last night for medical supplies, and Hershel was able to perform surgery to remove the bullet fragments, but …"

          Rick moved over to them and gave his wife's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "It's still touch and go. We're just going to have to wait it out for now."

          Daryl's narrowed eyes fell on their leader. "So, there's still a chance he might not make it," he said, not mincing words. He wanted facts and didn't really give a damn if he was being insensitive.

          His gaze was drawn to an older man as he came down the steps. "I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure he pulls through."

          "Daryl, this is Hershel. This is his farm." He nodded up at the girl who'd taken Lori from them in the woods yesterday, who was sitting on the railing surrounding the porch. "That's Maggie, his daughter." Two more came out of the house, having heard the vehicles driving in. "That's Otis, and his wife Patricia. Everyone, this is Carol and Daryl Dixon … and this is Dale Hovarth."

          Hershel held out a hand to Daryl, which he finally took after a nudge in the ribs from Carol.  _Damn pointy elbows_ , he growled inwardly. His gaze wandered back to Rick. "What's the plan?"

          Rick shook his head. Leave it to the straightforward redneck to come right to the point. "Hershel has agreed to let us stay for a bit. Shane is going to have to mend enough for travel, and Sophia is going to have to be found before we can leave."

          Carol looked around. "Where's Theodore? Has his arm been seen to?" she asked worriedly. "Daryl said he'd given him some antibiotics, but the wound still needed to be cleaned."

          Hershel was quick to reassure her. "Your friend is going to be fine. Patricia cleaned and stitched it for him last night. He should be good as new in no time."

          Carol shot him a relieved smile. "Thank you, sir, for your hospitality."

Dale was rather relieved himself with the turn of events. "We should get our camp set up soon, so we can organize the search for Sophia."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl had their tent set up in the shade of the oaks, not far from the house, within twenty minutes. Ten minutes later, Carol had their packs and bedding spread within and she was ready to follow Daryl into the woods. He squinted at her in the afternoon sun, a frown etched between his tawny brows. "Where y' think y' goin'?"

          "With you," she stated, as if it should be obvious.

          "Y' don't wanna stay here an' lend Lori some moral support?" he bit out, unable to hide the note of sarcasm in his voice.

          "Don't be mean," she admonished, falling into step beside him as they headed to where Rick and some of the others were gathered by the hood of the Cherokee. "Lori is not in a good place emotionally right now, but she'd be the first to tell me she didn't need me to stay with her when she knows I need to help look for my daughter."

          He glanced down at her skeptically. "She got herself into this jam, an' it's gonna have t' be her who gets herself outta it." He ducked his head and fiddled with the strap of his bow. "Jus' thought you'd wanna be there t' hold 'er hand. Y' know what with all th' motherin' y' like t' do."

          Carol stopped and looked up at him. "Is that really such a bad thing? I was never allowed to have friends before, Daryl. I never had someone to show how much I cared."

          Now he felt like an ass. "Course not," he mumbled. "Jus' don't want y' t' feel like y' gotta come out with me. It wouldn't hurt y' t' stay back this afternoon t' rest up a bit after y' collapsed yesterday."

          She squared her shoulders, digging deep for the strength he believed her to harbor. "I'm fine … and I'm going."

          She turned on her heel to join the others, but he reached out to grab her hand, a gleam of concern in the depths of his eyes. "Carol … y' know I wasn't tryin' to hurt y' this mornin', right? When I said –"

          "Daryl, I know you'd never do anything …  _say_  anything … to intentionally hurt me. This morning, you said what I needed to hear. I can't let my fear hold me back. I can't start thinking Sophia won't be found and let it take over my life. I have to be strong … for her." She rested her hand against the curve of his jaw, and smiled as he leaned into her touch. "I needed you to remind me of that."

Daryl linked his fingers with hers and got her moving again. "Y'  _are_  strong, woman. Y' need to remember that." He had faith in her.

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl chuckled and snatched the travel mug still half full of coffee from Carol's hands. Maggie had kindly offered it to her before they'd set out to resume their search and Carol had been steadily chatting since they'd trekked off the farm and into the woods. "No more coffee for you," he scoffed, downing the remainder of the lukewarm brew. "Y' ain't shut up since we left. How am I supposed t' concentrate with all that yammerin'?"

          Carol snorted. "Well if you'd answer my questions, then we could share the conversation and it wouldn't be so one-sided. Therefore, you wouldn't have to listen to me _'yammerin'_ ," she snarked, making air quotes over his choice of word and then arching one perfectly sculpted brow in his direction.

          He grunted and tightened his grip on her hand, pulling her along. Hershel had offered up a map of the area, and he had a clear grid of where he needed to look for Sophia. He was more than fine with the others staying behind. The rest of the camp needed to be assembled if they were going to remain there for any length of time, which Rick needed to oversee. He knew the man didn't want to be far if there was some change in Shane's condition. Andrea and Dale were setting up watch. T-Dog was under strict orders to rest and regain his strength, and Glenn was busy sniffing after the farmer's daughter. It seemed to him the group would always find something more important than finding Sophia.

          "Y' not pissed at all yer high-faluting friends for not helpin' us search?" he asked, giving her a sideways glance from the corner of his eye.

          Her faint smile dipped into a frown. "They have other matters to attend to."

          "It's bullshit."

          "Daryl, I can't expect them to ignore their own chores to come out here with us. What they're doing is important too." She looked at him until he met her gaze. "At least I have you to look for her. You're her best hope."

          He huffed grudgingly under her praise.

          She was silent for a time as they followed the grid, sometimes having to backtrack when the trees became too dense and nearly impassable. "So how did you learn to hunt and track?"

          Daryl rolled his eyes and grunted. "Again, with th' questions. Always th' questions."

          Carol grinned, hearing the lightness in his tone he usually reserved only for her and Sophia. "It's only because I want to know you, Daryl. It's a given you won't open up to me if I don't ask. Think of how much I've told you about myself. It's only fair."

          He shot her an irritated look as he held a large branch out of the way for her to pass. When she was clear, she smirked at him. "If you tell me what I wish to know, I'll give you something in return …"

          He seemed to perk up at that. "Like what?"

          "I don't know … what do you want?" she asked coyly.

          The hunter's eyes narrowed, his gaze dropping momentarily to her lips. If they didn't find the girl that afternoon, there was no way he would be bringing her out with him again. She was far too distracting. Granted, her focus was off since they hadn't quite reached the area he was determined to search, but that was beside the point. He couldn't allow himself to let his guard down when he needed to protect them both from the dangers around them. Yet, he couldn't stop the words which forced themselves past the tip of his tongue. "A kiss?"

          Carol blushed to the roots of her hair, and bit her lip uncertainly. "You'll tell me?" she asked hopefully, wanting his reassurance he wouldn't back out.

          He nodded. "I'll answer your questions, woman, and then tonight before we bed down for th' night I'll be expectin' my payment," he growled suggestively.

          Her blush deepened, and warmth spread through her limbs. She knew he wanted her. How could she not know with the heated glances he'd been sending her way since their little argument at the bunker, yet he never pressured her to give him more than she was willing to give. She still didn't know if she'd ever be able to have sex again after the horrible way Ed had treated her for so many years. But Daryl's tenderness, his sweet gentle touch and the fire he lit in her belly made her believe she could take the chance.

          Carol shifted the pack on her back and linked her fingers with his once more as they started off through the trees. She didn't think he'd actually go through with answering her questions … until he finally spoke.

          "I was eight or maybe nine when I ran away th' first time and got lost in th' woods. My pa was off on a bender with some waitress an' Merle was doin' another stint in juvie. Spent a week stuck out there, eatin' what I could catch an' wipin' my ass with poison oak. When I got back, Uncle Drew was waitin' on me. Fed me up an' made me tell 'im where I'd been. Pa was still gone, so at least I ain't had t' deal with him."

          Carol looked devastated when he chanced a glance to gauge her reaction. "Your father never knew you were gone? He didn't come looking for you?"

          "Nope," he said, his lips popping on the 'p'. "But that's a good thing. Saved me a beatin' at least. Drew made me come home with him. Started teachin' me how to hunt an' track. Merle picked up where he left off once th' old man fetched us home."

          She gave his hand a squeeze in silent understanding. It was all she could do to swallow around the lump of emotion clogging her throat as she thought about his younger self lost and alone in the woods with no one searching for him. Even if he hadn't cared so much for Sophia, he still would've looked for her … because he knew what it felt like when no one cared. She could feel herself falling just a little more as she lost another piece of her heart to him.

          Daryl halted her at the edge of the tree line as they came to a clearing, and for a moment, Carol thought they'd come full circle and were back at the farm, but the house she could glimpse across the wide lawn was different than that at the Greene farm. He dropped her hand and raised a finger to his lips as he raised his crossbow, motioning her to silence. She drew the .45 from her hip and took a steady step after him. They both knew the dangers of being out in the open, and kept a wary eye out for walkers as they approached the house. It was evident the structure had been abandoned long before the world had come crashing down around them.

          Carol admired the easy grace with which he moved as she followed him up the dilapidated steps and through the front door. She moved cautiously to the right through a parlor with its dated furniture as Daryl moved left into what appeared to be a dining room. They met up in the kitchen and he motioned her to stillness while he checked through the pantry. She felt a spark of hope when she noticed a nest of blankets at the bottom of the tiny cupboard.

          "Do you think Sophia might've been here?" she whispered, unable to disguise the rising hope coursing through her.

          "I wouldn't put it past her." He searched through the rubbish bin nearly overflowing next to one of the counters and came up with a treat wrapper. "I'd say she's been here," he said, holding it up for her to see.

          "Will she come back d'you think?"

          Daryl shook his head. "Not if she's still tryin' t' find her way back t' th' highway. She's gonna want t' keep movin'." He jerked his head in the direction of the stairs they'd passed. "C'mon … we'll do a sweep of the top floor an' then head back out t' th' woods."

          The upstairs of the small farmhouse yielded nothing and soon Carol was back outside with Daryl at her side, breathing in the warm late summer air. He relaxed, linking his fingers with hers once more as she re-holstered her sidearm. The smile which overtook his features stole her breath with its beauty. She was helpless not to follow as he pulled her over to the flowering bushes on the side yard.

          Daryl knelt in the grass, tugging her down to his side, his hand already reaching for one of the brilliant white blooms with its delicate yellow center. "Cherokee roses," he murmured, trailing the flower over the smooth curve of her jaw. She shivered as much from the cool touch of the petals as from the husky timbre of his voice. "Do you know th' story?"

          "I do. I heard it, but it was a long time ago," she replied, losing herself in his smoky blue gaze. "Will you tell me?"

          He nodded slowly, his gaze seemingly enraptured by the way the petals ghosted over her skin. "The story is when th' American soldiers were movin' Indians off their land on th' trail of tears, the Cherokee mothers were greivin' an' cryin' so much 'cause they were losin' their little ones along the way from exposure, disease an' starvation. A lot of them just disappeared."

          He paused, his eyes transfixed as he brought the flower to rest in the hollow at the base of her throat, wondering how it would feel to dip his tongue into that little indention of flesh. When she shivered, he brought his gaze back to hers, pink tinting his cheeks as he continued his story. "So th' elders said a prayer; askin' for a sign t' uplift th' mother's spirits, give 'em strength … and hope. Th' next day, this rose started t' grow right where th' mother's tears fell."

          Carol didn't try to hold back her own tears which fell unheeded from her lashes as she let him pull her into him. She wept silently and took comfort from his embrace, her head tucked beneath his chin as they sat there in the grass, the hot Georgia sun warming their backs. "I'm not fool enough t' think there's any flowers bloomin' for m' brother, Carol. But I do believe this one here bloomed for our girl."

          Her watery eyes lifted to meet his, a beatific smile upon her lips. "It's a sign of hope … just like you said."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl shot her a squinty-eyed glare as Carol watched him polish off a bag of Funyuns he'd found in her pack. She was hungry too, but it was close to dinnertime and she wanted real food if at all possible. With Lori occupied, Dale would probably have taken over the chore of preparing dinner. She just hoped spam was nowhere on the menu that evening. "Whatcha grinnin' about over there, woman?"

          Carol's smile widened. "Nothing."

          "Bullshit. Y' look like y' jus' took first prize in th' pie eatin' contest at th' county fair."

          She snorted and tucked the empty bag back in her pack to dispose of later. "I was just wondering to myself how you manage to get so filthy just walking in the woods."

          Daryl gaped at her and fiddled with the strap of his bow, nudging her shoulder playfully. "Better question is how y' manage t' stay so clean."

          "I am  _not_  clean by a long shot. I need a bath," she chuckled.

          "Well I wouldn't need one if I hadn't tripped over y' big feet an' landed in th' mud. An' y' better not be tellin' nobody either," he growled in warning. It was ruined by the teasing smirk he wore, however.

          "I don't have big feet!"

          "Is that right?" he teased. They continued down the drive to their makeshift camp in companionable silence until he nudged her again. "It's good t' hear y' laugh again."

          "Why shouldn't I?" she asked, slowing her steps a bit so they could finish their conversation before they reached their camp. "I know you're going to bring Sophia home to me." She looked down at their clasped hands, biting her lip as she contemplated telling him what was in her heart. "You always make me smile because … because I know you'll always be there for me, Daryl. No matter what happens we have each other, and I wouldn't trade that for anything. I know I'm being silly and emotional, but … I just wanted you to kno-"

          He dragged her forward into his arms, enveloping her in his warm embrace. "Y' not bein' silly, and y' ain't gotta worry about none o' that. I ain't goin' nowhere. For as long as y' want me … I'll be here." He blushed scarlet, and could hear Merle chastising him for his tender declaration, but he meant every word. They stood there for an endless time simply basking in the other's comfort before he nodded out towards the pond in the distance. "Y' think Hershel would mind us takin' a dip in th' pond after dinner?"

          He'd be the first to admit his bathing habits had improved since he'd started sharing her bedroll. Now he couldn't imagine crawling into their tent to sleep covered in creek mud.

          "I don't see why he'd object," she said with a shrug.

          Daryl turned around in time to see Rick and Dale walking down the drive to meet them. "Did you find anything?" Dale asked, slightly out of breath.

          The hunter rubbed tiredly at the back of his neck and squinted against the dying sun. "Yeah, we found an abandoned farmhouse a couple miles west. We think she mighta holed up there for a night, but she was long gone by th' time we got there."

          "Maybe she's still trying to find her way back to the highway, you think?" Rick asked. "If it was even her. It could've been anyone, really."

          Carol stiffened. "It was her, Rick."

          "I'm just trying to be realistic, Carol. She's been out there over forty-eight hours already."

          Daryl puffed up like a wet cat and pushed Carol behind him as he got in Rick's face. "So whatcha sayin', Grimes? Y' callin' off th' search because o' your police statistics? That's bullshit!"

          "No, I'm not,' Rick argued, opting for a calm tone in the face of the redneck's ire. "I'm just trying to think about this rationally. I'm not going to give false hope to her," he nodded at Carol. "But I have gone over the map Hershel gave us and we're all going to be searching tomorrow. It's time we brought that little girl home."

          Daryl gave him a stiff nod and backed off.

          "Ok," Dale offered, clapping his hands together once as he looked between the two bull-headed males. "Let's get you and Carol something to eat. I made chili."

          Carol smiled, feeling her stomach rumble at the prospect of something hearty to fill it. She linked her arm through Dale's and set off towards camp, leaving Daryl and Rick to follow. "That sounds wonderful, Dale."

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol shook her head at Daryl as he rubbed at his chest with a pained expression. It was nearly dusk as they made their way to the dock on the edge of the pond, a change of clothes for each of them and a small bag of toiletries tucked under her arm. She tsked at him. "I told you not to eat so fast. Now you're going to be suffering with indigestion all night. I may go bunk with Lori."

          "Like hell y' will!" he growled, tugging on her hand to hurry her steps. "Dale cain't cook for shit."

          Carol laughed softly and set their things down on the wooden planks of the small pier. "He does just fine. You're just spoiled." She sat down, but was in no hurry to undress. "So … you want to go first?"

          Daryl arched a brow at her, a shy smile on his lips. "We're losin' th' light. We need t' hurry, so we'll bathe together."

          "Together?" she squeaked.

          "Ain't like we ain't been naked in th' shower before. This ain't no different," he argued, pulling the sleeveless flannel over his head without unbuttoning it and dropping it at his feet.

          Carol couldn't hold his gaze, instead dropping it to her fidgeting hands folded in her lap. Already she could feel a nervous fluttering in her belly. Her heart thundered against her ribs, and her breath hitched, but she couldn't explain why she was suddenly so weak. She knew he wouldn't hurt her, or make her do anything she didn't want to do. She swallowed down some of her anxiety and forced herself to speak, but inwardly cringed when everything she felt was so evident in her voice. "I don't know if that's such a g-good idea. We both got kinda carried away last time. If Sophia –" She clasped a hand firmly over her mouth. "Oh god! What the hell am I even doing? My baby is lost in the woods and here I am just going about our normal routine … what kind of mother am I?!"

          Daryl dropped down on the dock and pulled her onto his lap, rocking her gently as she wept. "G'on, woman, get it out," he murmured, his lips dropping a tender kiss to the crown of her head. "But y' ain't done nothin' wrong. You're a wonderful mother, an' I ain't gonna have y' blamin' yourself. Y' think she'd want y' runnin' around dirty when she knows y' hate it?"

          Carol shook her head and burrowed more against his chest. "No."

          He stroked a hand over her back from nape to hip, trying to offer whatever comfort he could. It was so foreign to him, never having had anyone who needed him like she did. He'd never even known he wanted to be needed like that, not until his Carol. His arms tightened about her as warmth flooded his chest, and he knew it didn't have a damn thing to do with the sexual attraction which flowed between them. This was deeper and though it scared him witless, it was something he never wanted to let go.

          Finally, her tears ebbed, and she forced a tremulous smile. "I'm sorry. I seem to make it a habit of weeping all over you."

"Pfft," he scoffed. "Ain't nothin'. Now c'mon and let's get clean so we can get some sleep, yeah?"

          She nodded and climbed to her feet, turning her back on him so she could rid herself of her clothes. She was down to her jeans and underwear when she heard the splash behind her and a hiss as Daryl hit the water. He came up cursing, his shaggy mane sending water droplets in every direction. "Cold?" she inquired, a faint smile playing about her mouth.

          He crossed his arms over his chest and peered up at her through the waning light. "Jus' a bit. Y' comin'?" He licked his lips as she kicked her jeans away and stood before him in nothing but her lacy underwear, the navy color a lovely contrast against her ivory skin. He found himself thankful for the cold temperatures below his waist. "Y' uh … y' can leave your drawers on, woman, if y' don't trust me t' behave."

          Carol gave him a soft look. "I trust you, Dixon. Don't ever doubt it."

          To further her trust, he turned his back. It nearly killed him to do so, but he did. She was already far out of her comfort zone; she didn't need him ogling her unabashedly. He tried to keep an iron grip on his libido as he heard the last of her clothing whisper down to the dock. He let his mind wander to unpleasant things, moldy cheese Merle had a bad habit of leaving in the refrigerator, the time the roof leaked and flooded his bedroom, walkers, and any number of things to stop himself from imagining Carol's milky flesh glowing softly in the rising moonlight.

          She whimpered as she lowered herself into the water, followed by a sharp intake of breath as it rushed over her ribs. "Shit! I didn't think it would be this cold!"

          Daryl's brows shot upwards. She never cursed, and it sent all of his good intentions – along with every drop of blood in his body – fleeing south.  _Oh damn, I'm in trouble!_  He drew in several deep breaths and reached up onto the pier to grab the bar of soap she'd brought out there for them to use. He held her gaze as he took the cloth from her hands, knowing it would be a mistake to let himself look down, and built up a decent lather. "Y' want me t' …"

          Carol nodded and stepped closer, releasing the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding as he brought it to her skin and washed the day's grime from her skin. When they were both clean and his hair was still dripping lazily onto his shoulders, she stepped into his arms without hesitation, banishing the awkwardness which lingered about them.

          "Thank you, Daryl. I  _do_  feel better," she whispered, the sound of her voice mingling with the song of the crickets and cicadas on the night air.

          He shivered and drew her tightly against his body, reveling in the way she felt in his arms, as if she had always been meant to be there. He cleared his throat, his tongue darting over his bottom lip. "I knew y' would."

          Carol's hands trailed along his arms from wrist to shoulder, causing his eyes to slam shut against the onslaught of sensation she awakened within him. Had anything ever felt more perfect? One hand cupped the side of his neck, the other she brought to his stubbled jaw, her thumb ghosting tenderly over his lower lip. "Open your eyes, Daryl … look at me." Daryl forced himself to obey her gentle command, slowly prying his eyes open to meet her gaze. "I believe I owe you a kiss."

          He shook his head. "Not if y' don't want t'."

          She pulled him down, her lips a scant inch from his own. "Oh, but I  _do_  want to." Her eyes drifted closed, and a soft moan escaped her as her lips closed over his. He felt rigid in her arms, as if he were afraid to move. She trailed her hands over his shoulders, kneading the tense muscles there as she sipped from his soft lips, willing him to relax. She could feel the evidence of his desire pressing against her belly, but it didn't bring the fear she'd always felt before with Ed. No, now it brought long dormant desire rushing through her veins. How long had it been since she'd felt these feelings for a man? Yet, she knew she'd still have to proceed cautiously.

          Daryl's hands curled over the swell of her hips as the kiss deepened. Her lips parted, inviting him in, and he delved forward into the honeyed recesses of her mouth, his tongue sliding in a sinuous dance with hers. His head swam, his heart pounded, and he didn't know where he found the strength to share just a simple kiss with her when he wanted so much more.

          Only the need for air made them part, and he panted as he rested his brow against hers. She clung to him, and he could see she was equally affected by his touch as he was from hers. "Y' ok?" he asked, tentatively raising his gaze to hers.

          "Mhmm," she hummed contentedly. "But I'm freezing."

          He grinned unrepentantly. What was a little cold when she was more relaxed than he'd seen her in days? "G'on, woman. Get dry an' wait for me on th' dock."

          Carol was reluctant to let go of him, but she didn't protest as he hefted her up onto the end of the pier. "What about you?"

          Daryl snorted. "Um … I'ma need a few more minutes." And with that he swam off into deeper water, willing his body to cool before joining her.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next time: Daryl asks Carol to stay behind while he continues to search for Sophia.


	31. Chapter 31

 

          "I need y' t' do a favor for me today," he whispered into the darkness. It would be dawn soon, and he had plans to get an early start … without her. He was surprised she was awake. Even though they'd gone to bed well before ten, she'd lain awake a good long while, lost in her own mind. Several times she hadn't been able to hold back her tears. He'd just held on and let her cry. It was better she let the anxiety she suffered out instead of letting it fester. Soon it would all be over, and she'd be able to find rest again.

          "Hm?" she hummed sleepily, burrowing deeper against his chest where her head had been resting for the better part of the night.

          His long fingers toyed with the short strands of soft hair at her nape. "I need y' t' stay here … in camp, while I go out today."

          Carol leaned up on an elbow and tried to make him out in the darkness. Unable to see his expression, she reached over and lit the lantern. She didn't know whether to be hurt or angry. "Why?" she asked, her eyes gleaming with the former as she looked down at him.

          "Aww, woman, don't look at me like that," he murmured. "Y' know I'd rather have y' with me than leave y' here with Dale an' Lori, but I have t' find Soph  _today_."

          "But, Daryl –"

          "No," he said, bringing a hand up to cup her soft cheek. "I'm gonna take one o' the horses out today, ride up t' that ridge we were lookin' at on the map last night. If …  _when_  I find 'er, it'll be too hard t' carry back th' three o' us." He didn't want to admit to her how distracting she was. He worried if his pace was too much for her and deliberately kept things slow when she was with him. He worried about the dangers of animals or walkers which might wander into their path and cause a threat. He was concerned about whether or not she was hungry or tired, but he could tell her none of those things because she would think he saw her as weak. She'd come so far in such a short amount of time, and he would do  _nothing_  to discourage her.

          "We could go on foot and cover just as much ground," she argued desperately. "I don't want you to be alone, Daryl. If something happens –"

          "I thought y' knew me better'n that."

          Carol slapped lightly at his chest. "You're not invincible! You're just a man!"

          He winced at the tears welling in her eyes. "I know how t' handle myself out there, Carol. I've spent most o' m' life in the woods o' Georgia. Stop worryin'."

          "How can I not worry?" she cried, hating herself for succumbing to the fear trying to claw its way out of her chest. "I can't lose you too, Daryl. If you don't come back, the group loses its muscle, its provider, but for me … if you don't come back I lose  _you._  No one means more to me than you aside from Sophia."

          Daryl felt his throat close up at her confession. No one had ever cared so much about him before. He knew his brother loved him, but he'd take off on a whim if the mood suited him. Not so with Carol. He was  _vital_  to her happiness, her well-being, and for that reason alone … it gave him all the more reason to be cautious and to come back to her.

          His arm snaked around her waist, flipping her onto her back so he could bury his face against the smooth ivory column of her throat. He still struggled with his feelings, and he didn't want her to see something he wasn't ready to show her. "Y' won't," he growled. "I'll always find m' way back t' you." He nuzzled the sensitive spot behind her ear he'd found last night. "Will y' promise t' stay here an' keep yourself safe … for me?"

          Her fingers wound through the strands of his hair, and she pulled him back, so he'd be forced to meet her gaze and accept the soft kiss she placed on his lips. "I will … but I don't have to like it."

 

*.*.*

 

          "Stop sulkin', woman," Daryl admonished as they made their way over to the Cherokee where Rick was organizing teams to go out and search.

          "I still think it's unfair you get to go look for Sophia while I have to stay here and do chores," she scoffed.

          He dug through his pack to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. "It'll do y' some good t' do normal things; keep your mind offa what's goin' on out there. An' y' got Lori t' keep y' company. Th' ol' man's got a couple o' daughters. Y' could chat them up."

          "Thank you."

          "For what?" he asked, truly puzzled.

          "For thinking of ways to take my mind off of how worried I am about Sophia."

          "Toldja, ain't nothin' t' worry about, woman. She's comin' home today."

          "Mornin' guys, let's get going," Rick said, waving everyone closer. "We've got a lot of ground to cover today. We're going to split into teams of two, and each team will take a grid."

          Andrea yawned around the smile she shot at Carol and tried to focus on paying attention. T-Dog's eyes were barely opened, and he was more than a little appreciative for the coffee Dale had brewed over the campfire.

          "If Sophia made it as far as the farmhouse Daryl found yesterday, she might've gone further east than where we've been so far," Rick continued.

          Carol narrowed her eyes at the young boy she hadn't met yesterday. Rick seemed familiar with him, but to her he was a stranger. She was surprised when he offered to join the search, claiming he knew the area and could be of assistance. She leaned over to Dale. "Who's that?"

          Dale looked at her in surprise before he remembered she'd been out with Daryl the previous afternoon. "That's Beth's boyfriend, Jimmy."

          "Beth?"

          "Hershel's youngest girl," he supplied.

          She focused again on what Rick was saying. "Maybe we can pick up her trail again. At least I'm hoping."

          "Ain't no maybe about it," he snorted as he pulled a long-sleeved flannel over his shoulders. "I'ma borrow a horse, head up t' this ridge right here," he pointed to the map. "Take a bird's eye view of the entire grid. If she's up there, ain't no way I won't spot her."

          "Good idea," Rick said. "Carol going with you?"

          "Naw, she's staying here this time." He glanced furtively at her from beneath his lashes, just waiting for her to start grumbling, but she surprised him, holding her tongue.

          T-Dog grinned and leaned on the hood of the Cherokee. "Maybe you'll see your chupacabra up there too."

          "Chupacabra?" Rick shot a puzzled look at the group, hoping someone would explain.

          "You've never heard this?" Dale asked, arching a lone bushy brow. When Rick shook his head, he continued. "Dixon's first night in camp, he tells us the whole thing reminds him of a time he went squirrel hunting and he saw a chupacabra."

          Carol giggled, and Daryl gaped at her. "Damn, woman, you too? What am I, the fuckin' comic relief?" Jimmy, T-Dog and Rick were having their own problems hiding their laughter.

          "So, you believe in a blood-sucking dog," the teenager quipped.

          The hunter narrowed his eyes on the boy. "Do you believe dead people walking around?"

          "Alright," Rick said, trying to get their attention once again. "Andrea, you can pair up with T, Jimmy, you're with me, and Glenn, you said something about wanting to be paired with Maggie?"

          "I'll just bet he does," Daryl snickered. He hadn't missed the boy's blush when Rick had mentioned the farmer's daughter. And whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was glad Rick was coming to realize he'd rather be out on the search alone instead of paired with anyone else. Carol was the only person he could really stand for any duration, and his skin hummed with anxiety to think of being out there with anyone else. He grabbed his bag and slung his crossbow onto his back, nodding at Carol. "C'mon."

          She was still chuckling softly as she fell into step with him. "So … a chupacabra? How did I miss this story?"

          He glared at her, not liking it a bit that she didn't believe him. "Y' weren't at dinner that night."

          "Oh … yeah," she murmured softly, crossing her arms over her chest. She clearly remembered the night in question. She'd barely spoken two words of greeting to the brothers before Ed had ushered her and Sophia back to their tent, claiming – rather loudly and rudely – that he didn't want his family associating with uneducated redneck trash. "Had you brought a bit of moonshine along with you on that particular hunting trip?"

          "I ain't gonna tell y' if y' just want t' make fun o' me," he grumbled, leading the way into the stables.

          "I was only teasing, Daryl."

          He ducked his head. "There may have been some moonshine involved," he admitted. "But I know what I saw."

          That confession sent her into a new fit of laughter. In fact, she was still giggling softly when he'd finished saddling the horse. He didn't care, however. It was too nice … hearing her laugh. It all died away as he approached her, reins gripped tightly in one hand. "I need t' get goin'."

          Carol wrapped her arms around his waist and burrowed into the crook of his neck, holding on just a moment longer than necessary. "Please be careful, Daryl." She lifted her face to him, offering her lips, a token of the love she still hid from herself, and he didn't hesitate to capture her mouth in a tender kiss. Her eyes were misty with emotion when he let her go. "Come back to me."

          "Y' know I will … an' I'll have our girl with me."

 

*.*.*

 

          He could almost pretend the world was as it had been, that the dead hadn't risen to consume the living, and the worst he'd have to worry about was a freak rainstorm to ruin a beautiful day out hunting. But he couldn't let his mind wander off into the clouds and lose himself to the tranquility of the forest. He had a job to do, and he couldn't allow himself to fail. And if it was just a normal day, he sure as shit wouldn't be on horseback. He had a basic understanding of riding, but he wasn't what one would call confident in the saddle. There was a lack of control being on the back of a living animal which set his anxiety levels at maximum. And if it was one thing Daryl Dixon couldn't stand, it was not being in control.

          He made good time, following the hunting trails – some overgrown, but easy enough to navigate – through the forest, making sure to keep a watchful eye on his surroundings. The only things he encountered were the smallest of woodland creatures … squirrels, rabbits and even once he spotted a hedgehog. But the farther he ventured from the farm, the more difficult it was not to think of Carol. He felt as though he'd left a vital piece of himself back there in the barn with her.

          Daryl sighed and headed up the slope onto the ridge which looked down into a deep wide ravine where the creek they'd followed yesterday wound through, shining silver in the sunlight. He shouldn't have left her behind. Being out there alone gave him entirely too much time to get lost inside his own head. If he'd allowed her to accompany him, he'd have had her steady stream of chatter to distract him. Even when she was quiet, he was still focused on her, and didn't have to listen to that voice in his head asking him what the hell he was doing all the time.

          He really hadn't meant to be anything more than her friend. It was her fault, he grumbled silently to himself. Her sweet timid smile, a nervous laugh, and the way she looked at him without revulsion or mistrust. She looked at him as if he were a good man, one worthy of her time. It had piqued his interest in those first few days at the quarry. Then he'd noticed the bruises she'd tried so hard to hide from everyone, and he'd known he had to find some way to help her. He hadn't planned to fall in love with her.  He yanked firmly on the reins, pulling the beast beneath him to a stop.  _Love?_  What the hell did he know about love? God knew he'd never had anyone love him before, never had anyone teach him about that dangerous emotion. He knew pain – his life had been filled with it in its many forms – but never love.

          Hell, not even Merle had ever claimed any love for him. He was fiercely protective of his baby brother, but he'd never admit to loving him. Caring, yes. He'd proven it time and again, but that was all Daryl would ever expect. His uncle Drew had cared too, but the Dixon men would never show weakness, and love was weakness. Or so he'd thought. His stomach writhed as if he'd eaten live eels. Was this tenderness he felt so strongly for Carol actually  _love_? He knew it was more than lust, more than just an intense desire to protect her. She was more than capable now of protecting herself. Yet, he found himself physically aching when he couldn't be near her. Was that love? Their connection … he didn't even want to think of what that meant. He'd never felt anything like it, never craved something so powerful, and it scared the hell out of him.

          If he weren't careful, the fear would paralyze him. The thought of losing her, not being able to keep her safe … no, he couldn't think like that. Carol was  _not_  his weakness. She made him stronger, better. Her touch, her mere presence, chased away the voice in his head forever telling him he wasn't good enough. He didn't want to be the bitter man he'd been before she'd come into his life. Did he love her? He didn't know for sure, but he was determined to find out.

          A hint of purple far below had him dismounting and making his way down the steep slope to the creek bed below. Crossbow in hand, he slowly made his way towards the object he'd seen. Feathers … no, a feathered headdress he'd watched his brother and Sophia construct sitting in the dappled sunlight outside of their tent weeks ago. Merle had scoffed at the purple plumage, but had relented when he'd seen how much she wanted them. Sophia – when she wasn't wearing it – kept that memento tucked safely in her pack. Daryl smiled. More breadcrumbs. He took a chance and shouted her name, the sound echoing off the stillness surrounding him, and tucked the little treasure into the hunting sack at his side.

          Daryl waited, his sharp eyes taking in everything around him with an air of disappointment when his call wasn't returned. "Damnit, Soph, where th' hell are you?"

          He cursed softly under his breath, unable to wait any longer. He set off back towards the incline and within minutes he was mounted once again. Giving the horse a gentle nudge, he followed the trail higher. For once, he was glad he wasn't afraid of heights as he looked down at the steep drop into the ravine below. If he weren't so set on the task of finding Carol's little girl …  _their_  girl … he could have appreciated the beauty surrounding him. God's gift of nature to man.

          If his gaze hadn't been so focused on the creek below, he might have seen the snake. He might have been able to retain his seat atop the horse. Instead, his grip on the reins loosened as the beast reared, and his balance tilted as he hit the ground, unable to regain his footing in time. His head spun, visions of his past skittering along his mind's eye as he careened down the steep slope to what he was sure would be his death below. His hands reached blindly, trying to snag onto anything which would stop his rapid descent, but he was falling too fast. He felt his stomach churn as his right temple collided with something sharp, but it was nothing compared to the searing pain in his left side. He gnashed his teeth together to stop himself from making a sound, still having the presence of mind to remain silent so as not to draw any unwanted attention.

          He splashed down into the creek below, every bone in his body crying out in protest. Though he didn't want to even think about touching the raw flesh of his side, he knew he needed to assess his wound. Shaky fingers ghosted over his screaming flesh, and he wasn't quick enough to bite back the groan forcing itself past his lips. Somehow, one of his bolts had worked its way free of his quiver and pierced him on the way down. "Fuck!" came his ragged whisper. It was funny in that moment he could only think of how pissed Carol would be when he came back bleeding. "So much for bein' careful," he lamented.

          Daryl looked up at the steep wall of rock littered with mud and saplings which he'd have to climb. He was lucky he was still alive. Using his knife, he cut the seams on his sleeves and tore them from his shirt. He tied them together, trying to breathe through his pain, and quickly bound his wound. Later, he would try to find the strength to pull the arrow from his torn flesh. He was glad his brother was nowhere to be found. He didn't even want to think of Merle laughing at him for his clumsiness. Hell, he didn't want to think of what the elder Dixon would do to him should he know Daryl had lost Sophia in the first place.

          He climbed unsteadily to his feet, cursing the weakness he felt in his legs. His heart stuttered as he reached for his crossbow and found it missing. It must have somehow been wrenched from his back in the fall. Using a long branch to help with his shoddy balance, he began searching the creek where he'd landed. It couldn't have been tossed too far from him. With a bit of dumb luck and sheer strength of will, he found it in the middle of the creek. Thankfully it wasn't damaged. He made it back to the base of the incline, hating the weakness which was pervading his senses. He was losing too much blood, and knew he had to try to make his way back to the farm. Carol would patch him up. She needed him. He couldn't just give in to the pain and lay down to die.

          Daryl shook his head to clear it as he pulled himself slowly up the hill. It was taking everything in him to put one foot in front of the other, his mind reeling with yet another failure. He'd promised to be careful. He'd vowed to bring Sophia home today. Instead, he'd been careless and gotten himself injured. How could Carol have faith in him if he couldn't keep his promises? How long would she remain at his side when he failed her time and time again? He fought off the blackness which encroached on the edges of his vision. He couldn't allow himself to give in, focusing instead on the one bright spot in his life. He kept the image of her lovely face in his mind's eye and fought to climb.

          It was all too much, his unsure grip on the sapling loosening, his body pitching to the right, and he was falling again, sliding painfully back to the creek bank below. He was dazed when his body finally came to a stop, his vision swimming in and out of focus. He couldn't fight the pain, and he let the black abyss claim him, her name but a whisper on his lips. "Carol …"

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next time: Carol gives Lori a wake-up call, our girl is found, and Carol welcomes them home.


	32. Chapter 32

 

          Lori was hunched over in her chair when Carol poked her head into Shane's sickroom. She glanced down at Carl who wore the same worried expression as his parents. "See, I told you we'd find her here. Dad stayed with Shane last night, so I knew Mom would be with him this morning," the boy whispered, not wanting to disturb his mother's rest.

          Carol wasn't the least surprised to find the Grimes family holding vigil over their friend. "Alright, enough is enough," she said, arching a brow at Lori as she jerked awake. "When's the last time you've eaten?" She went to stand beside her friend and wrinkled her nose. "Or showered for that matter?"

          The brunette blinked up at her. "Um … yesterday?"

          "Up … out of that chair, now," Carol ordered a bit brusquely, but she knew the other women quite well by now, and a firm hand was needed.

          "I can't. It's my turn to watch over him," she argued. "What if I step out and he wakes up … or needs something?"

          "Carl's going to take a shift while you eat and get cleaned up. Remember Carl? Your son?"

          "Hi, Mom!" the boy chirped.

          Lori gaped at them both, feeling as if she were the victim of an unwanted intervention. "Carol, I –"

          "No buts. Move it," she demanded.

          Lori had no choice but to obey. "You're being a pushy bitch; I'll have you know."

          Carol grinned unrepentantly and gave her friend a shove towards the door. Before they left, she turned to wink at Carl. "If there's the slightest change, run to get Hershel and then find your mom, ok?"

          "I got this."

          Carol led Lori to the kitchen where Beth and Patricia were cleaning up from their breakfast. "We're not intruding, are we?"

          Beth turned to her, a warm smile on her lips. "No, of course not."

          "You know we'd be more than happy to cook for you one night to show our appreciation for allowing us to stay. Carol's an amazing cook," Lori said, returning the girl's smile.

          "Really? 'Cause Maggie is the worst. Tonight would be great since it's her turn to cook," Patricia smirked.

          Lori laughed for the first time in days. "Tonight would be fine."

          Carol arched a brow at her friend. "I suppose I deserved that, but you know I don't mind." She could see the three chickens in the sink ready to be plucked. "I'll even let you help me."

          "Gee thanks."

          Her teasing died away, and she reached out to wrap her arm around Lori's shoulders. "How is he? Has there been any change?"

          Rick's wife shook her head. "No. Hershel has done all he can, but Shane's going to have to wake up on his own. There's only so much antibiotics and pain killers can accomplish." She lowered her voice. "I think he's keeping him medically sedated until he's through the worst of it. All we need is for him to wake up and start thrashing around. There's a chance he might rip out some of those stitches Hershel had to use inside."

          "From what I've seen and heard," Carol said, "he seems to be a good Christian man. Trust him to know what he's doing, Lori. And pray, but you can't neglect yourself."

          Carol left her at the table and retrieved the plate of eggs and bacon Beth had left covered on the stove for her. The woman dug in with relish, not having realized how truly hungry she’d been.

          "How are you?" Lori asked, downing half the glass of juice Carol had poured for her. "I thought you'd be out searching with Daryl."

          Carol shot her a loaded look. "He asked me to stay in camp today. He borrowed one of Hershel's horses, and if he finds Sophia, all three of us wouldn't have been able to ride back together."

          Lori snorted. "And you're buying that load of bull?"

          She shook her head. "Of course not. Daryl's worried about me, thinks I'm letting my fear affect my health. And no matter what assurances I might give him … he won't listen."

          The brunette grinned and pushed her plate aside. "Has he told you yet?"

          "Told me what?" Carol asked quizzically.

          "That he loves you."

          She shook her head. "Lori –"

          "Have you told him?"

          "Lori –"

          "Gawd! Seems like he's not the only mule-headed person in this relationship."

          Carol blushed and glanced down at her hands.

          "Have you, um … y'know?"

          "Had sex with him?" Carol smirked. "No."

          The brunette's shoulders slumped, and a little pout formed on her lips. "Why the hell not? It's obvious to anyone with eyes that you love each other. What's the hold up?"

          Carol was beginning to feel uncomfortable. "We're taking it slow. It's me," she said dejectedly. "After years of Ed's abuse … I just don't know if I can be physical with Daryl. I'm just now trying to sort through how I feel when he kisses me. What if we get really into it and I freeze up?"

          It was Lori's turn to offer her friend comfort, slipping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in for a hug. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. But you listen to me. We can all see how he feels for you. Those kinds of feelings don't just go away if you can't have sex. They run too deep. I have a feeling Daryl will wait for you."

          Carol chuckled, wiping a tear away from her cheek. "Look at us! I dragged you out here to see about  _you_ , and you end up letting me whine on your shoulder."

          "That's what friends are for, Carol."

 

*.*.*

 

          A scream rent the air, forcing his muddled mind to return to the land of the living. "Damnit, Merle, lemme 'lone. Miserable bastard!" He felt his brother nudge his foot again, and he was glad he had worn his heavy work boots that morning. A growl. That wasn't Merle. His brother had never made that sound before. That was … "Fuckin' hell!"

          Daryl scrambled back away from the walker who apparently had a taste for shoe leather, his hands frantically searching at his sides for his crossbow. Unable to find it, he reached for his knife. The geek abandoned his foot and lurched forward, fumbling for a tastier morsel when its head exploded, spraying Daryl with brain matter. It fell on him, and he turned his head away from the gruesome sight of the arrow protruding from its face as he struggled to push it off of him. He rolled the rotten thing to the side and shakily climbed to his feet in time to see Sophia take aim and put another walker down for good.

          He limped forward, gaping at her, and then she was running across the wet sand and launching herself into his arms, crying more than he'd ever seen her weep since he'd known her. He stifled a cry of pain as her knee bumped against the arrow still embedded in his side. He didn't care in the least about his wound, or having just faced the prospect of dying. Their little girl was safely wrapped in his arms, clinging to him with nary a thought of ever letting him go.

          Daryl simply held her and let her cry, much as he was used to holding her mother, his relief in having found her – or she having found him … whatever – bringing him a sense of peace. He hadn't failed.

          Sophia sniffled and rubbed her nose on the back of her grungy sleeve as she leaned back to look up at him. "I'm sorry."

          "Gawd, girl! What th' hell y' got t' be sorry about?" he asked incredulously.

          "I shouldn't have run away," she argued. "I should have tried to run to you instead of taking off into the woods, but I really thought I'd be able to find my way back." Her eyes widened as she shifted her weight on his lap and her knee brushed against his wound. "Oh my god, Daryl, what happened to you?"

          Daryl winced as she climbed off his lap to sit beside him on the sand. He looked up at the wall of the ravine and nodded. "Horse threw me," he pointed, "from up there. One o' my bolts came loose from th' quiver an' got me."

          "That's got to come out. You're never going to be able to make the climb like that," she protested, pulling her pack from her back. "I got a first aid kit. Should have some gauze and some paper tape in here to get you fixed up enough until we get back to the road and Mama can have a look at you."

          She would never cease to amaze him. After the water works, she was back to being the brave little spitfire she'd become after he'd taken her and Carol away from Ed. "Sophia, stop. Look at me," he commanded. He cringed as those bright blue eyes rose to meet his, so filled with barely concealed fear it stole his breath. "Y' don't have to pretend with me, y'know. It's ok t' be scared."

          "No, it's not. Being scared'll only do one thing … get me killed."

          What the hell had Merle done to the girl, he wondered. "Merle tell y' that shit?" In fact, he could remember his brother telling him something similar years ago. "Because it's not true. It's ok t' be afraid, jus' don't let it freeze y' up. You're safe now with me. Y' don't have t' do this alone no more."

          The girl took a deep shuddering breath and wiped another tear from her face, but she looked better, less terrified and more herself. She even mustered up a brave smile for him. "Alright, take off that nasty shirt and let me fix you up a bit."

          He snorted. "Have y' seen yourself lately? Y' look like a walker y' so filthy."

          Sophia wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, and I know I smell like one too."

          Daryl pushed her matted hair back from her brow, so he could have a better look at her. "Y' wanna tell me what happened?" he asked gently.

          The girl sighed as she went to the creek and dipped her hands into the water to wash them. Only when she settled back at his side with her supplies and began to inspect his wound did she speak. "That's gotta come out, Daryl. I can't do anything with that arrow in there."

          "Fuck," he cursed, knowing he didn't have an alternative. He waited until she'd balled up what remained of his shirt and pressed it to his skin, ready to bear down and stop the bleeding as soon as he pulled the bolt free. "Get ready. On three …" He sucked in a deep breath. "One … two … fuck it." He stopped hesitating and ripped the shaft from his side. "Sum'bitch!"

          Sophia frowned at him, not liking it a bit that he'd jumped the gun. She was on him in an instant as he collapsed back onto the sand, applying pressure. "You ok? You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?"

          He shook his head furiously. "Naw … I'm good," he panted. "Now quit stalling and tell me what happened when you ran from the road."

          "There's not really much to tell, Daryl. I ran away like a coward. Merle would be so disappointed in me. I'm actually kinda glad he wasn't here to see it."

          Daryl glared at her. "Stop that shit right now. Merle cares about y', an' let me tell y' … Merle don't give a shit about nobody but Merle." He hissed as she pulled out a bottle of alcohol and doused his wound. "Tell me somethin' … could y' have fired your bow?"

          She shook her head disapprovingly at his attitude for his brother, but replied nonetheless. "No, they were too close."

          "Then y' did what y' were taught t' do. Y' ran. Better than stayin' and dyin'."

          "Yeah, well … I got far enough away to take one down with my bow. The other one wasn't quite so easy. He got too close, and I tripped," she admitted, blushing in embarrassment. "I don't think I've ever been that scared in my life. Then I remembered my knife and I stabbed him in the eye." She concentrated on applying some antibiotic ointment into the hole the arrow had left in his side, and then pressed a thick wad of gauze over it. "I'll probably never get all the blood out of my hair."

          "I'm sure your ma will help y' with that," he grinned.

          "She must be so mad at me," Sophia whispered, her chest tight thinking of what her mother must be going through. "Is she ok?"

          "Carol's fine. I promised her I'd be bringin' y' home today." He tilted her chin up. "An' she ain't mad, jus' very worried."

          "Then it's a good thing I found you," she snarked, grinning smugly. "And saved you."

          He narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't get cocky. Y' get too overconfident, it makes y' careless," he warned, though really she had every right to be proud of herself. "Y' really take out that walker up close with y' knife?"

          Sophia pulled his stained shirt down over the bandage and nodded. "Yeah." She shuddered as she remembered the feeling of her knife sliding into its dead flesh. "Then I puked."

          He ruffled her hair. "Y' did good, kid. An' thanks for patchin' me up. Glad I have some antibiotics stashed away," he muttered to himself. "So, how'd y' end up down here anyway? Me an' your ma found th' trail o' breadcrumbs y' been leavin'."

          Sophia reached for her pack and pulled out two granola bars and a bottle of water, offering one to Daryl. "I couldn't think of anything else to do. I knew I'd gotten turned around when I didn't find the highway after a couple of hours. So, I started leaving little things behind. I was practically stomping through the mud, so I could leave a clear trail instead of hiding my tracks like Merle showed me." She paused to chew for a moment before looking back at him. "First night I found a hollow log. Never thought I'd get all the bugs outta my clothes. Next night I found this farmhouse. I crashed hard that night."

          "I can imagine."

          "Last night I found this cave. It's not very big, but it was enough where I could lay down and sleep for a few hours." She chugged half the bottle of water and handed the rest to Daryl. "I'm just so ready to go home, Daryl. I don't want to sound like a whiny baby, but I want my mom."

          Daryl stuffed the bottle and granola wrappers back into her pack and levered himself to his feet. "She misses you too, Soph. She's been goin' crazy with y' missin'." Those big blue eyes turned up to his and he smiled. "We been searchin' for y’ every day. Had t' practically tie Carl t' a tree t' make him stay back at th' farm."

          They were slowly making their way over to the base of the incline. "The farm?"

          "Right … y' wouldn't know about that. Shane was shot by a guy out huntin', an' Rick took him t' this farm t' get fixed up. Guy who owns it is a doctor or somethin'."

          "Is he dead?" she asked with wide eyes.

          Daryl shook his head. "Naw, not yet. Rick said it was touch an' go. They jus' waitin' t' see if he's gonna wake up."

          Sophia stared up at the climb they'd have to make. "Ok," she said, taking a deep breath. "We can do this."

          Daryl stared down at her, taking her measure. She really was a remarkable girl. "It ain't gonna be easy, kid. Here," he handed her his knife, "take this."

          "Why? I have my own," she frowned, removing her own knife from her belt.

          "Because with a knife in each hand, y' can stab them into the soil and use them as leverage t' pull yourself up."

          She caught on quickly, but she was still showing signs of worry. "What about you?"

"Y' don't worry about me. Jus' get your ass t' th' top, so we can get back t' your mama."

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol slid the large roaster full of rosemary chicken into the oven, and leaned back against the counter. Her muscles ached, but her mind was clear. Lori had helped her that morning with the chores before she'd relieved Carl and took a shift watching over Shane. The laundry was done and hanging on the makeshift lines Dale had hung for them, dinner was in the oven, and she'd even gone out to help Patricia feed the chickens. She'd done everything she could think of to keep her mind from wandering to what Daryl might have found out in the woods.

          The search teams had wandered in several hours ago, empty-handed. Carol appreciated their efforts, but none of them were skilled trackers like Daryl. If her daughter would ever be found, he would be the one to do it. Her gaze wandered to the back door, her eyes searching the tree line past the back yard.

          "Why don'tcha go on out and take a walk, Carol," Maggie suggested as she set a sandwich in front of Glenn. "The chicken has what … an hour in the oven?"

          Carol smiled at them both. She hadn't missed the longing glances the boy was giving Maggie when he thought she wasn't looking. "You wouldn't mind keeping an eye on it?"

          "’Course not," Maggie grinned. "You saved me from dinner duty tonight. You're my new best friend."

          "If you're sure?"

          Glenn set his sandwich down. "Daryl should be back soon. You work so hard as it is, Carol, you could use the break. Go on out and wait for him."

          Carol nodded and headed out the back door and around the side of the house, taking her time as she approached the camp. It wouldn't be dark for another four hours, and she really couldn't see him returning before then, but it was nice to be out in the fresh air and sunshine without the constant threat of walkers interrupting her solitude. She wandered into the shade of the RV, still lost in thought when she heard a voice from above.

          "Hey, stranger!" Andrea called.

          Carol squinted up at her. "What're you doing up there? Dale let you take watch?"

          The blonde nodded. "Yeah, I'm just a bit tired of laundry. I want to help protect the camp."

          "Look, I wanted to thank you for going out this morning to help search for Sophia. It means a lot to me."

          Andrea's features softened as she looked down at her friend. "Carol, we all love Sophia. She's a great kid … a tough kid. I know she's out there hanging on just waiting for us to find her."

          "Thanks, Andrea. You don't know what that means to me to hear you say that."

          Andrea smiled sadly, trying to think of something to change the subject. She really hated what her friend was going through. "Hey, how'd you manage to hold on to your guns? Hershel told Rick this morning he didn't want any of us packing."

          Carol snorted, squinting off into the distance as she shielded her eyes against the late afternoon sun. "Maybe because the second I tried to hand them over to Rick, Daryl threw a fit. He snatched my belt out of my hands and put it back on me. He said if he wasn't going to be here to protect me, I was going to be able to protect myself. Rick wasn't happy about it, but he's trying to get along with Daryl and decided not to force the issue."

          "At least Dixon has your best interests in mind." Andrea wouldn't admit she was a bit angry at having to turn over her own weapon. She followed Carol's gaze out across the field and tensed, rising from the lawn chair she'd been sitting in atop the RV. "Walker!" she yelled, drawing everyone's attention.

          "Are you sure, Andrea?" Carol asked, unable to see anything clearly with the sun in her eyes.

Rick and Dale came running. "How many?"

          "Just one," the blonde replied, raising the binoculars to her face. She dropped them to pick up the rifle lying next to her. "I bet I can nail it from here."

          Glenn, having heard Andrea's cry, came running from the house, stopping long enough by the tent he shared with T-Dog to fetch a machete. T was right behind him. "We can handle this," the boy said.

          "No, Hershel said he wanted to deal with walkers," Rick hedged.

          T grabbed a baseball bat. "C'mon, man, it's just the one. We got this."

          Rick cursed as he retrieved his Colt from the RV and followed the others out into the field.

          Carol felt a chill raise the fine hairs on her nape. Something wasn't right. Why would one lone walker venture onto the property when the ones she'd seen lately were moving in groups?

          "Wait!" Andrea yelled. "There's another! Just came out of the trees behind the first one!"

          Dale began climbing the ladder at the back of the RV for a better look. "I don't think he heard you, Andrea. Carol! Where are you going?! Get back here!" he shouted after her, but she refused to stop.

          Andrea laid down flat atop the RV, bringing the rifle up, sighting through the scope as she cocked the weapon.

          "Andrea, don't," Dale warned, still unsure. "You don't even know if it's walkers. It could be someone looking for help. Don't do this!"

          "Back off, Dale!" she snapped.

          Carol didn't look back, hoping her friend listened to Dale and wouldn't shoot until they could get closer. Her legs burned as she pushed for speed, easily catching up with the others. Her heart pounded, and the air burned in her lungs as she caught sight of … "Sophia!" Nothing could have stopped her from tearing across that field. Tears streamed over her face, cooling on her cheeks, as a bright smile curled her daughter's lips.

          "Mama!"

          She ran past Rick who had stopped to point the Colt at Daryl. Her arms wrapped about her daughter, weeping hysterically as they both tumbled to the ground.

          Daryl sneered at Rick. "That's the third time you've pointed that thing at my head. Y' gonna pull th' trigger or what?"

          "You leave him alone!" Sophia cried, struggling out of her mother's embrace to her knees.

          Before either she or Carol could rise, a shot rang out. "No!" Carol screamed, crawling over to Daryl and cradling his head in her lap, fresh tears of dread filling her eyes. "No!"

          Daryl groaned, bringing a hand up to his temple where the bullet had grazed him. "I was fuckin' kiddin’!"

          Carol held on tighter as Sophia moved to his other side, leaning over him in a protective stance. "What the hell?" the girl yelled, glaring at the men standing around them.

          "Andrea thought he was a walker," Rick offered lamely.

          "And you gave her a gun!?"

          Carol held her tongue for now, though she'd have a few words for her friend when they got back to camp. "Come on, help me get him up. Hershel needs to have a look at him."

          "What the hell happened out there?" Glenn asked, taking one of Daryl's arms as Rick took the other.

          "It's a long story," Sophia said wearily.

          Andrea and Dale came running across the field, her horrified expression not enough to quell Sophia's anger. "Oh, my god … Oh, my god, is he dead?"

          The girl glared at her mother's friend for a long moment and then hauled off and kicked her right in the knee. "You shot him! Why would you shoot him when he's never done anything but protect and provide?!"

          "Sophia!" her mother admonished. "It was an accident." Her azure gaze was dark and menacing as she turned to the blonde. "Though it could have been avoided if she'd just listened when she was told NOT TO FIRE!"

          "I'm so sorry!"

          "He's not dead. You just grazed him, but Carol's right. You should have listened," Rick hissed.

          "Carol …" Daryl moaned before succumbing to the welcoming arms of unconsciousness.

          She wrapped an arm around Sophia's shoulders and pulled her daughter close as she followed them. "Hurry, Rick, he needs help.":

          "Mama, it's not just his head. He took an arrow to the side and he fell a really long way down into the ravine," she explained. "I tried to patch him up best I could, but he needs a doctor."

          "Is that why you two look like geeks," Glenn asked.

          Sophia nodded. "Yeah. It's hell out there."

 

*.*.*

 

          Hershel was none too happy when they returned to the house. "What the hell is going on? I told you there was to be no firearms near my house."

          "It was an accident, Hershel. I'm sorry. It won't happen again," Rick apologized as the man led the group to an empty bedroom where they were able to lay Daryl down on the bed.

          The farmer shook his head. "It's amazing you people have survived this long. Maggie, I need my kit. Patricia, hot water and bandages," he said as he began to roll up his sleeves.

          Sophia pulled away from her mother and positioned herself near Daryl's head, taking a cloth her mother provided and holding it to the wound on his temple. "You going to be able to help him?" she asked, looking at Hershel for the first time. “Sir?”

          The man looked up from examining the wound in the hunter's side and blinked at the girl. "I believe so. You must be Sophia," he said, smiling for the first time since they'd gotten back. "Don't worry, I'll do everything I can for your dad."

          Sophia grinned at her mother, but held her tongue. A warmth spread through her chest as he called Daryl her father. Maybe dreams really did come true. She already saw Daryl as her dad, but it was a shock to the system to hear someone else refer to him as such.

          Carol took the water from Patricia as she came in and set it on the night table next to the bed. She shed her leather jacket and reached for a cloth, wringing it out before she started cleaning the muck from Daryl's face.

          Hershel glared a Rick when he noticed the woman's belt. "I'm not going to have guns in my house."

          "Carol …" the redneck moaned, fighting his way back to consciousness.

          "Carol, please? Just for now?" Rick asked, shooting her a pleading stare.

          She nodded and handed him the belt. "Daryl's not going to be happy about it.  _You're_  going to explain it to him, though. I'm not going to argue. I'm more concerned with his wounds."

          "Thank you."

          He left to stash her weapons in the RV with the rest of their firepower, leaving her and Sophia alone with Hershel as they continued to work on Daryl. She turned to the doctor. "Hershel … thank you so much for helping him," she murmured. "I know you don't want us here, but I want you to know how much we appreciate your aid and hospitality."

          "It's my Christian duty, one I will not ignore, but your leader needs to understand this is my land and his group needs to follow my rules."

          Carol nodded. Daryl's eyes opened, and he winced as Hershel began to clean the wound in his side. "Sum'bitch!" he growled.

          Sophia leaned over him. "It's ok!" she was quick to reassure him. "You're safe." She took his free hand and held it in hers, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "… Dad."

          He snorted, but didn't refute her claim. He groaned again as he met Carol's worried gaze. She was biting her lip again, and seemed to be unable to meet his eyes. "Woman … y' ok?"

          She smiled, her lower lip trembling as she released it. "Yeah. Shh, we'll talk about it later. Just try to relax and let Hershel fix you up."

          "G'on, Carol. I'm ok here. Y' take Sophia an' get her cleaned up." His head turned to look up at the girl. "She stinks."

          Sophia scoffed. "Yeah … like you smell like you been laying in a flower bed."

          His chuckle turned into a pained hiss. "See … toldja she was comin' home today."

          Carol leaned over and ghosted a kiss across his lips before she ushered her daughter to the door. "I never doubted you, Daryl."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yay! Sophia's home! *happy dance* Next time: Carl and Sophia reunite, Carol has a tearful reunion with her daughter, and Daryl earns a nickname. Lots of fluff :D Big buckets of love to all of you who have been reading this story and leaving your lovely wonderful comments and reviews!


	33. Chapter 33

 

          They'd barely closed the door behind them when Carl came running down the hall and threw himself at Sophia, his eyes shining with unshed tears. She was on the verge of crying herself. "How could you leave me like that?" the boy wailed, hugging her fiercely. "We're supposed to stick together, Sophia."

          "I know," the girl whispered softly, clinging to her friend. "I'm sorry."

          "Please don't do that ever again." He pulled away, their embrace growing awkward, his nose wrinkling. "Ew! You been rolling around in dead things or something?"

          Carol covered her mouth with a hand to stifle a giggle.

          Sophia just arched a brow at her best friend, her lip curling into a smirk. "Sure, Grimes, because it's all the rage y'know."

          "Alright, you two," Carol said, ushering Sophia into the bathroom. "There will be plenty of time to catch up over dinner."

          Her daughter grinned as Carol closed the door and Carl skipped off back to what he'd been doing before he'd been told of Sophia's return. She turned to her mother and threw her spindly arms about her waist. "I missed you so much, Mama," she whispered, tears falling unchecked from her long lashes to leave a muddy trail through the grime on her face.

          Carol fell to her knees, gripping her tightly. "Oh, baby … I missed you too. I was so scared for you, but Daryl … he never lost faith that he'd find you."

          Sophia wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve and sniffled as she sat down on the closed lid of the toilet. "Are you mad at me?"

          Carol turned the water on, so the tub could fill. "No, Sophia. Don't ever think that. I was terrified because you were out there all alone, cold and hungry. I was afraid I'd …" She couldn't finish as tears rolled down her own cheeks. She blinked them away and helped her peel the grungy clothes from her back. She wouldn't tell her daughter of the pain and anguish she'd suffered in her absence, the debilitating fear she'd felt thinking she'd never see her precious girl again.

          "I had my pack with me, Mama. I wasn't cold with my jacket and my blanket, and I had granola and protein bars and a few bottles of water. I was ok." She really didn't want to tell her mother what all she'd been through out there. Carol would never let her out of her sight again, and she had a feeling she was going to be extra protective over the next eon at least. "I'm glad I'm different now."

          "How so?" Carol asked as she lathered up a pink poofy sponge and tackled the muck coating her daughter's skin.

          "I never would have survived out there if I was the same person I had been before the outbreak. I was always so scared before … of everything. If it weren't for Daryl and Merle …"

          Carol bit her lip, wanting so badly to ask what had happened to her while she'd been lost. "It's ok now, baby. You're home with us."

          Sophia closed her eyes as her mother dumped a cup full of water over her head. "So … um … why does the doctor man think Daryl's my dad?" she asked, deciding to change the subject. Apparently, a lot had happened while she'd been gone. "Did y'all run off and get married while I was missing or something?"

          Her mother blushed to the roots of her hair. "No, nothing like that. When Rick introduced us to Hershel, the man assumed we were married. Daryl didn't correct him. He believes it's safer if people think I'm his wife."

          Sophia pursed her lips, deep in thought as Carol scrubbed her hair. "Does this mean I can call him Dad?"

          Carol stopped scrubbing and gently tugged Sophia's head back, so she could meet her eyes. "I-Is that something you want, baby? For Daryl to be your dad?"

          Sophia nodded. "If you think about it, Mama, isn't he already? We're a family unit. You're my mom, Daryl's my dad, and Merle is my loveable crazy uncle. That's how the world sees us now, right?"

 _Oh boy!_  "Um …" What was she supposed to say? It  _was_  how the world perceived their clever ruse, and Sophia wanted it to be real.  _She_ wanted it to be real. "You're right, but I want to ask Daryl first. Ok?"

          Sophia pulled the plug and let the water drain before turning the faucet back on. "That's good with me." She blushed when her mother frowned at the water. "Ugh! I think we're going to have to scrub me twice though."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl shrank back against the headboard, pulling the sheet up over him. "I don't need that crap! Rick, tell 'im I don't need no pain killers … I'm fine! Carol!"

          "Son, this will make you feel better and help you sleep. You've been through the ringer today," Hershel said, trying to keep his exasperation from showing. "There's a good chance you could thrash about in your sleep and tear your stitches. You're lucky to have survived that fall at all."

          Rick held up a hand to their pseudo doctor and sat down on the edge of the bed next to Daryl. The hunter eyed him warily, not trusting him in the least, keeping the other eye on Hershel so he wouldn't sneak up on him. "Now, Daryl, you know Hershel only has your best interests in mind. It would be good to listen to him."

          "NO! Carol!"

          He pressed his back closer to the solid oak of the headboard and shook his head. He knew what it would be like should he accept what they were offering, and after what had happened at the CDC, he wasn't willing to do anything to make himself look like a fool in front of Carol again. Merle Dixon was his brother, as well. He knew how drugs affected the elder Dixon and he wanted no part of that shit. Where the hell was his woman?!

          Rick shook his head and met Hershel's gaze across the width of the bed, speaking in a hushed tone. "His brother had problems with narcotics at one time, so I'm told." He swung back to look at Daryl. "And there's nothing to say you'd have the same problem."

          "What's going on in here? Daryl, I could hear you yelling all the way to the kitchen," Carol said as she pushed into the room, a tray with his dinner held firmly in her hands. She instantly tensed, taking in the scene, and her eyes narrowed fiercely on Rick. "Explain …  _now!"_

          "They're tryin' t' pump me full o' that shit!" Daryl roared, flinging a hand out in Hershel's direction. "Tell 'em I don't need it!"

          He might have sounded angry, but Carol could see the fear lurking behind his eyes. She set the tray down on the nightstand and sat down beside him, running a soothing hand along his bare arm. She shot Rick and Hershel a quelling glance before she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his brow. "It's alright, no one is going to do anything you don't want. But I want to know why you're afraid of a little shot."

          "It's not that, woman!" he scoffed, his face suffusing with heat. He lowered his voice. "I don't wanna be like I was that night I got drunk, and I don't wanna take a chance of being like Merle. I can tough it out."

          "But you won't," she insisted. She turned back to Hershel and offered him a patient smile. "Hershel, will it harm him?" She already knew the answer, but she wanted Daryl to hear it as well.

          "Not at all. It's a very low dose merely to take the edge off and help him rest. He's in dire need of some decent sleep to aid in healing."

          "He needs to eat and bathe as well," Carol murmured more to herself. "Would it be possible for me to give it to him when he's ready to settle down for the night?"

          Rick brightened, crossing his arms over his chest as Hershel mulled over her suggestion. "That's not a bad idea."

          "I love th' way y'all talk about me like I'm not even in th' fuckin' room," Daryl snarled, glaring at them all as they stood about his sick bed thinking they knew what was best for him.

          Hershel nodded and laid the syringe on the nightstand next to the tray. He motioned to Rick, having him turn around so he could show her where to position the injection. He wasn't about to get close to the surly redneck.

          "Hershel," she called as he and Rick made their way to the door. "Thank you so much for caring for my family. I hope you all enjoy the meal Lori and I prepared."

          After they'd gone, Carol set the tray in Daryl's lap. He winced as he sat up, but it didn't stop him from digging into the roast chicken, potatoes and carrots on his plate. He eyed the cucumber and tomato salad off to the side, but then ate that too. The tense silence which had fallen between them unnerved him a bit, but he'd been too hungry to acknowledge it. Having finished with his dinner, he could no longer ignore it.

          "What?"

          She arched a brow. "You don't have to think everyone is out to hurt you, Daryl. There  _are_  still good people left in the world."

          "You trust too easily," he grumbled as he slowly swung his legs out of bed. "One o' us has t' be on guard."

          Carol rushed around the end of the bed to help him, ignoring him completely when he waved her off. She slid her arm around his back and draped his arm over her shoulders. He groaned as he stood. "You want to tell me the real reason you don't want the pain meds?" she asked worriedly as she helped him to the bathroom, so he could shower. "I know you're not really concerned you'll become addicted."

          He levered himself down to sit on the closed seat of the toilet. "Damnit!" he cursed, looking up at her. "I forgot a change o' clothes."

          She rested a hand on his shoulder to keep him seated when he moved to rise and trek back to the bedroom. Carl had been good enough to collect their packs from their tent since Hershel wanted Daryl inside for a few days to keep an eye on his wound. "Sit. I'll get them, but this discussion is far from over, Dixon," she warned in a no-nonsense tone. "I'm not letting you change the subject on me."

          Daryl sighed and managed to work himself out of his boots and pants before she came back and shut the door behind her. She kicked the grimy garments into a pile with the ones she'd stripped from Sophia to be washed later and busied herself with turning on the faucet and setting it to the right temperature. He sent up a prayer of thanks for generators to provide hot water. His eyes widened as she began to tug at her own clothing. "What're y' doin'?"

          "Well I'm not going to get into the shower with you fully dressed, now am I?" she snarked.

          His eyes traced every curve of her body appreciatively, only the intense pain in his side keeping his body in check. Yet, despite that pain, he couldn't help clinging to her once they were both under the hot spray, the pounding heat from the showerhead soothing the aching muscles in his back. This was all he wanted – all he'd ever want – to be close to her without fear or regret, knowing she belonged to him and would never abandon him.

          Daryl shivered as her fingers worked the shampoo through his shaggy hair, her nails scraping delightfully over his scalp. It was then she decided to try again and make him talk. "Tell me why you're afraid, Daryl. It's just me. You know I won't judge you."

          He ducked his head under the spray and rinsed the suds from his hair before giving her a sheepish look. "I don't wanna make myself look like a fool again."

          Carol went to work on his torso, her touch gentle as she worked the lather over his skin. "What are you talking about? You've never done anything to make yourself look like a fool."

          He stared at her incredulously. "Yes, I did!" he argued. "That night at th' CDC when I was drunk off m' ass."

          She chuckled, which only made him scowl darkly. "Oh, stop. You were pleasantly laid back that night, Daryl, but in no way did I see you as a fool. You think the pain meds will make you feel the same?"

          Daryl nodded, dropping his gaze as she made him turn around, so she could wash his back. "I jus' don't wanna look stupid in your eyes, woman. You … you mean too much t' me."

          She ignored the rush of warmth around her heart as she cut the water and whisked the curtain back, reaching for a towel to wrap around his waist and another to dry his hair. There would be time for that later once she was sure he was comfortable. She pointed to the toilet, urging him to sit before she answered. "That's not going to happen, Daryl. You should know me better than that." His hair looked like a rat's nest by the time she was sure the damp strands were on their way to drying, and she couldn't help but smile at how boyish he looked. "Will you take them … please? I know you're in pain."

          "How d'you know?" he scoffed. He thought he'd been able to mask the worst of it so far.

          She waggled her brows at him. "Because you haven't tried to kiss me since we got naked," she giggled.

          He held her gaze a long moment and then nodded. "Fine."

          Carol pressed her lips to his brow. "Thank you."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl didn't know how long he'd been asleep. Moonlight filtered in through the windows of the small bedroom, and Sophia was curled up on his good side, her hands wrapped around his upper arm and her head resting on his shoulder. Warmth flooded his chest at the sight of her golden head, the relief of having her home safe with them unimaginable. He dropped a kiss to her crown and settled back comfortably against the pillows. A pleasant lassitude wound its way through his body, and he found himself thankful to Carol for a relief from the pain he'd been in.

          His head turned to the door as it opened, and Carol came in, her face wreathed in that perfect smile she usually reserved for him and Sophia. "Hey, where y' been?" he asked, only a slight slur to his words.

          Carol laid down beside him and propped herself up on an elbow, her free hand stroking Sophia's hair gently. "I was going to help with the cleanup after dinner, but Maggie wouldn't hear of it. So, I went to check on Lori, who's sitting with Shane for a while."

          He reached out for her hand and twined his fingers with hers, bringing them both to rest against his heart. "How is 'e? Thought it was awful quiet around here without all th' bickerin' an' fightin'."

          "Hershel's been keeping him sedated. He's hoping he'll be able to stop the protocol tomorrow and allow Shane to wake up on his own. Glenn and Maggie are going to make a pharmacy run tomorrow for more pain meds. Shane's going to need them for at least another week or two."

          "Did Soph eat good at dinner?"

          Carol chuckled. "Oh yeah … well, when she wasn't regaling everyone with her harrowing tale of surviving in the woods for three days," she said in an overly dramatic tone worthy of the stage.

          "She did real good, Carol. I'm proud o' her."

          "Me too. They're all rather impressed with her, and Rick wants everyone to brush up on their own survival skills. You're going to be quite busy once you're back on your feet."

          Daryl smiled lazily, unable to bite it back. He felt too mellow and knew he hadn't been this relaxed since the CDC. He raised her hand to his lips and brushed them ever so softly against her fingertips. His heavily lidded eyes rose to meet hers, and a rush of contentment flowed through his entire body. "An' how are  _you_ , woman?" he asked, his voice whisper soft.

          Carol's lips slowly curled into a smile. "Happy. I'm so happy, Daryl, and at the same time I feel guilty about it."

          "What th' hell y' got t' feel guilty about?"

          She bit her lip. "Because of what Lori and her family are going through. I know she loves Rick and is fully committed to him, but you know she still cares about Shane." Her fingers fidgeted within his grasp, but she wasn't willing to let go of him. "How can I be so happy when my friend is suffering?"

          Daryl fought off a yawn. "You're human, Carol. After whatcha been through yourself, y' deserve t' be happy."

          She opted for a subject change before he could work himself up into a fine fit. "I love seeing Sophia so relaxed with you. She was never like that around her father."

          Daryl snorted. "Kids an' animals are able t' sense evil, y'know." He stared at her for a long moment. "Today … while Hershel was stitchin' me up, she called me Dad."

          Carol nodded and slipped down off her elbow, settling herself comfortably at his side, but leaving a little distance between them in deference to his wound. "I wanted to talk to you about that. She sees us as a family unit. Her words, not mine. She sees us as her parents and Merle as her beloved uncle." She let that sink in before saying more, giving him time to adjust to the idea. "She wants to know if she can call you 'dad' all the time."

          He released her momentarily to swipe a hand over his face. "Gawd! Poor kid," he joked, but his expression was serious when he looked up at her. "Dixon's don't make th' best fathers."

          " _You_  would make a wonderful father, Daryl. You're fiercely protective, you're patient with her, you go out of your way to spend time with her, and you  _love_  her. That's being a parent whether you see it that way or not," she replied. "She couldn't ask for better. It doesn't mean you have to see me as your wife in order to claim her as yours."

          He sighed. "I'm doin' everythin' in m' power t' do right by her. I don't mind if she calls me dad." He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer despite his wound. He wasn't in pain, and really it made him feel better to have her familiar weight nestled against him. "An' I don't care how y' see our relationship with each other, Carol, s'long as y' stay with me. This," he waved a hand indicating the room at large, but she had a feeling it went far deeper than that. "I can't do this without y'. I don't want t'. I need you."

          "I need you too," she sniffled, burying her face against his chest. "All of you." His heart above all, she added silently. It was too soon to tell him she'd lost hers to him long ago.

          Daryl chuckled and gave her hip a little pinch, well aware of how ticklish she was. "I think y' jus' like me 'cause I let y' snuggle up t' me like some overgrown teddy bear," he teased.

          She cast a look of mock surprise his way. "Y'know, I think you're right … Pookie."

          A genuine laugh erupted from his mouth as he gaped at her. "What th' hell y' just call me?"

          Her eyes sparkled as she joined in his laughter. "Oh, come on, Daryl. Surely, you've seen the Garfield comic strip in the paper. He had a teddy bear named Pookie. So that's what you'll be, my very own Pookie."

          He yawned and pulled her up so he could bury his face in the crook of her neck, so she couldn't see his tinted cheeks. "Don't care what y' call me, woman. Jus' don't do it in front o' nobody."

          Carol brought her lips to his, hearing the weariness in his voice, and kissed him long and deep, pouring all her love into the gesture. "I promise."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next time: Merle is tired of being pursued and decides a confrontation is in order, and Daryl faces one of Carol's hang-ups head on. So, hope y'all enjoyed the chapter. Please let me know what you think.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is rated M/E for adult themes. SMUT people!

 

          He poked at the dying embers of the fire and what little it served in the way of warmth as he sneered at his makeshift camp. He was so tired of running. He had never minding camping in the woods, rather enjoyed it in fact, but it was different when someone just so happened to be chasing you.

          His gaze wandered up the length of the oak. Just his eyes as he remained still and motionless, not wanting to give her position away. Marty was already more than a little angry with him. She would have run forever if he'd asked, but that was no life for her. The woman he was beginning to care – truly care – for deserved better. His ears were attuned to the forest around him, could hear the telltale shuffle of footsteps, but they were the clumsy footfalls of the living instead of the dragging amble of the dead.

          Merle dragged his good hand over his face and reclined against the moldy log at his back. Waiting … patiently waiting. The hunter with his prey within his sights. He couldn't rightly allow his pursuers to follow him all the way to Ft. Benning and put his family in danger. He rubbed his fingers together idly, itching to reach for the gun on his hip, to dispatch them before they even had chance to explain their motives. What did he care? He just wanted to be done with them.

          For all outward appearances, he seemed to be calm, relaxed. He was anything but. The sounds drew closer, helping him pinpoint exactly where the Latino and his dark friend were just outside the meager circle of light provided by his campfire. "Might as well c'mon out, boys," he called, his voice muted in deference to the deaders which might be lurking in the shadows. "Y' not foolin' nobody."

          The Latino was the first to step forth into the light, and Merle's grin widened. So, he must be the leader, Dixon thought. "Where's your woman?" he asked calmly, keeping his eyes trained on Merle.

          Merle shrugged. "Oh, she's around." His hand never ventured to his side, wanting his prey to feel confident enough to let his guard down. "Have a seat. Seems like we need t' have a lil' chat."

          The man snorted. "If you wanted to chat, Dixon, you wouldn't've made us chase you across three counties."

          His grin fell away, and his eyes narrowed with dangerous intent. "How y' know me? What is it y' want? M' woman? Because I promise y' now, she ain't gonna take too kindly t' goin' with y'."

          The Latino rolled his eyes. "Man, what the hell kind of people you take us for? It ain't like that."

          Merle leaned forward, glaring over the campfire at him. "Then why don'tcha jus' enlighten me t' how it is? An' y' can start by tellin' me how y' know who I am when I ain't never set eyes on y' before." An arrow came whizzing out from the treetops to land near the Latino's buddy who was slowly creeping up behind Merle. Dixon chuckled. "Might wanna invite yer friend to join us before m' woman shoots a bolt up 'is ass."

          The man jerked his chin in his companion's direction, and the big man ambled out of the darkness to crouch down beside him. "I'm Martinez." He nodded towards the other man. "That's Schumpert. We go out in teams … 'bout four I'd say … unless the Governor has recruited more men since we've been out."

          "Th' governor? Don't tell me yer runnin' around caterin' t' that asshole!" Merle scoffed.

          Martinez shook his head. "Naw, Dixon, be serious. This guy Blake, he's putting together this safe haven. You ought to know by now we can't trust the government … or what's left of it. There's a complete breakdown in authority out there. It's every man for himself."

          "S'that right," Merle drawled.

          "Blake's an alright guy. He's recruiting people to help bring order to this place … Woodbury. He needs muscle."

          Merle grinned, knowing the type of man Martinez was trying to sell him on, but his eyes were cold and calculating. "Still don't explain how y' know me."

          A slow grin spread over Martinez's face. "You did a stint at state with my brother Nero. Saw you a time or two when I went to visit him in the joint. So yeah, I know about you, Dixon. Know what kinda man you are."

 _The man he used t' be,_ he thought, a flash of blue eyes and a pixie smile flashing across his mind's eye. Merle forced himself to appear relaxed. Well as much as he could, considering he'd rather just gut the two bastards and be on his way. But there was something niggling at the back of his mind. This place could be good – stable – for Marty, for his family once he found them. Someplace safe. "And jus' what is it this governor would want me t' do? Work for him? If'n y' know me at all, y' know I don't work an' play well with others."

          Martinez shrugged. "Pretty much what we're doing out here. Scavenging, mostly. Recruiting when we can. We're just trying to help people who can't take care of themselves. We bring them back to Woodbury where it's safe."

          "Sounds too good t' be true, Merle," Marty called down from her perch in the oak. "Too much like a pipe dream, if y' ask me."

          Schumpert paled as he swung around to stare up at the arrow she had nocked at his head. "The governor's a good man," he said calmly. "There are walls being constructed around the town to keep the dead out. It's probably the safest place you'll find."

          She leveled her cold jade stare at him, but held her tongue.

          Merle cocked his head to the side, sizing them up. Everything about the situation screamed for him to run, to find Daryl and his family and keep running, but on the other hand … if he could find a safe place where they could live without fear for their lives, he had to take a chance. "Hand over yer weapons. Y' take us t' this … Woodbury, was it? We'll judge fer ourselves if'n we wanna be a part of it."

          Martinez grinned and handed over his side arm, but kept a firm grip on his knife. "You won't regret it, my friend."

          Marty snorted.

          Merle took the gun and tucked it into his waistband. "S'that right?" he drawled. "We'll jus' have t' see about that."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl stifled a groan as his head swam with dizziness. He knew better than to make a sound before he could open his eyes and assess his surroundings. He was more than a little startled to see Carl and Sophia on the sofa across the room beneath the big bay window. Her head was nestled comfortably on the boy's lap, and they looked to be reading comic books.  _Th' fuck?!_  His girl looked entirely too comfortable sharing Carl's personal space.  _How th' fuck long had that been goin' on,_  he wondered irritably.

          He opened his mouth to protest their closeness, but it felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. It was then he remembered the pills Carol had nearly forced down his throat at dawn. Now the sun was brightly shining in through the windows and he was hot as hell beneath the blankets. He tossed them off quickly, gaining the attention of the children.

          "Oh, good you're up!" Sophia chirped happily. "Carl, go tell my mom Daryl's awake."

          "Ok," he replied. He paused at the door. "You want to go see the horses when you're done?"

          "Sure!" Daryl watched her eyes brighten, which put him in an even worse mood. She hopped up on the bed with him once the boy left, and arched a brow at his thunderous expression. "What?" she asked calmly.

          He didn't hesitate. "Th' hell was that, girl? Layin' all up on 'is lap like that! What else y'all been doin' while m' back was turned, huh?"

          "Seriously?" she asked in a droll tone. "You're not really asking if me and Carl have been messing around, are you?"

          He waved an arm at the sofa and then clutched at his wounded side. "What th' hell am I s'posed t' think? I saw you!"

          Sophia rolled her eyes. "Ok, first of all … I'm twelve. Secondly … eww! Boys are gross. Thirdly … Carl's my friend. He's been with me from the start of this thing, and I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have him. I never really had friends before because of Ed." She sighed a bit dejectedly. "Just don't worry, ok? I'm not going to do anything you would disapprove of, Dad. I promise."

          And with that one word his anger dissipated. Apparently, Carol had already talked to her. He slung his arm over her shoulder and pulled her into his side. "It's not that I don't want y' t' have friends, Soph. Jus' … you're too young for that sorta thing, y'know. I don't want y' t' get yerself in trouble. An' somethin' tells me good ol' Rick wouldn't take kindly t' me snappin' 'is boy's neck for gettin' y' that way."

          "Oh, my god," she groaned, her face going up in flames. "Are we really doing this? Mom told me about sex when I was ten because of this TV show Ed was watching. She almost stroked out. So, I really don't need the talk from you too, do I?"

          His face was just as tomato red as hers, and he was all the more thankful for his woman's foresight. "Gawd, no!" He slung his legs over the side of the bed. "Jus' be careful."

          Daryl doubled over in agony as he stood, one hand braced against the wall. Of course, Carol would choose that moment to come breezing into the room. "Daryl! What are you doing out of bed?!" she cried, setting a fine china plate on the bed and rushing to his side.

          "Gotta take a piss, woman," he growled through his pain. "An' hell no, I ain't usin' a damn bedpan. So, don't even bother t’ bring it up."

          Sophia made her way to the door, leaving Daryl in her mother's more than capable hands. "Oh, he's going to be fun to be around today," she drawled. She reached up and kissed Carol's cheek. "I'm going to see the horses with Carl, Mama."

          Carol looked panicked. "What? Why?"

          "Mom, it's ok. It's just to the stables."

          "But … I'm sorry. I just got you back, and –"

          "You're worried, I know," Sophia sighed, resigning herself to being watched like a hawk. "I'm going straight there and then right back to the house. I promise to be careful, and stay where I can hear you if you call for me. I can't stay in the house all the time, though, Mama."

          Carol bit her lip uncertainly. "I know, baby. Maybe I can convince Rick to set up a target near our camp, so you and Carl can practice with your bows."

          "Awesome!"

          "Alright," Carol smiled. "Go see the horses and I'll talk to him."

          Sophia reached up and hugged her mother before darting out of the room. Daryl was holding his side and moving much slower than usual when he came back and flopped unceremoniously onto the bed with a groan. She handed him the plate with the sandwich she'd made for his lunch, and left him a moment to bring her request to Rick. When she returned, he was lying against the pillows, scowling up at the ceiling.

          "What's wrong, Pookie?" she asked, her lips curling into a wicked smile. "Not feeling well?"

          He looked away, crossing his arms petulantly across his chest as he gnawed on his lower lip. When he refused to answer, she gave him his space, reaching into the bedside table for the medical supplies she'd need to care for his wound. "Don't patronize me, woman," he finally growled. "Y' ain't got no idea what I woke up t'."

          Carol eased the soiled bandage away from his skin, trying to be gentle. "Why don't you tell me. It might make this a bit easier … take your mind off of it."

          Daryl rolled onto his right side to give her more room to work, flinging his arm over his head. "Y' know what our girl was doin'? She was layin' on that sofa with 'er head in Carl's lap. His lap, Carol!"

          He hissed as she cleaned the wound with alcohol. She arched a brow. "What was she doing with her head on his lap?" she asked calmly. There was really no need to panic, they weren't even teenagers yet. The hormones surely hadn't kicked in.

          "Readin' comics."

          "Maybe she was still tired from her ordeal," she suggested, applying antibiotic ointment to his wound. Thankfully there was no redness to be found, nor infection.

          "I told 'er she shouldn't be doin' that shit," he grumbled.

          "And what did she say?"

          "That boys are gross an' I'm worryin' for nothin'. I wish Merle was here," he sighed. "I'd make 'im put th' fear o' Dixon in that boy."

          Carol laughed as she finished with his bandage and sat back. "The fear of Dixon?"

          "Stop," he mumbled, blushing. He could already feel his ears turning red.

          "I suppose Merle  _can_  be scary when he wants to be." She handed him two more of the pain killers and what looked like two horse pills. He could only deduce them to be his antibiotics in oral form. "Here, take these. Then you can take a nap and rest like Hershel ordered."

          He glowered at the medication resting in her palm. "I don't wanna lay in this damn bed all day."

          "Too bad. Doctor's orders, Pookie."

          Daryl rolled his eyes, but took the pills. The sooner he was better, the sooner he could leave the house. He reached out, taking her wrist and pulling her further onto the bed, his eyes sloe-lidded and lusty. "Well, if I gotta be shut up in here all day, y' can stay with me."

          Her eyes widened, but she didn't resist when he tucked her into his good side and she felt his warm breath on the sensitive skin of her neck. "I can't! I promised Maggie I'd show her a few things in the kitchen. She was rather impressed with the dinner I made last night," she rambled. "And Shane is supposed to wake up today if everything goes well. Lori's going to need me. Sophia needs to be looked after …"

          "And I think y' can spare an hour for me, woman. At least until th' meds kick in an' knock me on m' ass," he murmured, the deep vibrations of his voice along her neck causing her to shiver.

          Carol's eyes slammed shut, her fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on the white peasant blouse she must have borrowed from one of the other women. It complimented her slender frame as well as her ivory skin with its soft dusting of freckles. He could spend an entire day counting each and every one with his lips if she'd allow it. He could feel the nervous tension radiating from her every pore, and he smiled before pressing his lips to the crook of her neck.

          "I-I do want to spend t-time with you," she insisted, a slight quaver in her voice.

          Daryl loomed over her, ignoring the pain in his side. He'd suffer any amount of agony to hold her in his arms like this. His embrace was loose, not at all wanting her to think he was trying to cage her in. His brows drew together at her words. "But?"

          Her gaze darted away from his. "I just don't want anyone to think I'm avoiding my share of the workload."

          "Carol, y' gotta stop thinkin' this group is gonna self-destruct if y' take a break. After whatcha been through this past week alone, don'tcha think y' deserve it?" His tongue swiped languorously over his lower lip as another thought occurred to him. "Or is it you're afraid t' be alone with me now that we have a minute t' breathe?"

          Those azure orbs flashed up at him. "I'm not afraid of you, Dixon."

          "Never said y' were afraid o'  _me_." He allowed his lips to skim over her smooth jaw until they were pressed to the pulse beating rapidly beneath her skin. "Jus' o' bein' alone with me."

          She moaned softly as his tongue snaked out to taste the sweet salt of her skin. "Am not," she argued, arching into him as her hand gripped his bicep firmly.

          His hand ghosted over her side to give her hip a gentle squeeze. "Are too," he countered. "What're we gonna do about all that fear, woman?"

          Carol bit her lip as his mouth wreaked a trail of fire over her neck, his thigh coming to rest between her own. Heat curled through her veins in a torturous path to settle in her lower belly, embers to be stoked by the man in her arms. She gasped as she hooked her leg over his hip, grinding herself against his firm thigh to relieve the ache building between her legs. He was temptation in the desert, every deadly sin all rolled up in tattered jeans and a come-hither grin. And for every enticing inch of him … she burned with need.

          He swallowed her gasp, taking advantage of her parted lips to delve his tongue into the delectable recesses of her mouth. He was gentle and slow, savoring her as if she were his last meal. He tasted her fully, and knew he'd never have anything finer to compare it to. She was ambrosia, and his senses reeled for her, making it difficult to maintain control over his flagging restraint. She needed a soft touch, a gentle hand, and by god he would not fail her. Even as he began to feel the medication dulling his inhibitions and spreading a pleasant lassitude through his body, he was determined to give her whatever she would allow.

          Daryl brought his brow to rest against hers when the need for air made it necessary to break the kiss. The connection he felt between them seemed to grow stronger with each kiss, every sweet touch, and he knew he'd die for her. It was more than his desire to protect her. That may have been what brought them together, but now it was so much more. His chest tightened as he fought back a wave of fresh panic at his feelings. He couldn't deny it any longer. He wanted her to love him. He wanted her heart, to hold it and cherish it for however long he could survive this new nightmare of a world.

          "Love you." The words tumbled from his lips, barely more than a whisper, as he found himself lost within her gaze. A knot uncoiled within, the need to panic, to run, deserting him. He was home. She was his haven from the pain and turmoil he'd suffered for so long. Everything he'd ever wanted, ever let himself dream of having, was wrapped up there in his arms, and he knew he'd never let her go. He bit his lip anxiously as tears formed in her eyes and her lower lip trembled with the weight of her emotions. "Shh … it's ok. Y' ain't gotta say it back." He leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. "I jus' wanted y' t' know, s'all."

          "You really do?" she asked tentatively, laying her hand alongside his whiskered jaw. "It's not just the pain medicine talking?"

          Daryl shook his head. "No … I really do. I ain't never felt like this before neither."

          "I love you too," she whispered, his arms tightening about her. "And I'm so scared. What if I'm too damaged? What Ed did to me … what if I'm never able to be with you … physically? You deserve so much better, Daryl."

          "I deserve  _you._ You're everythin’ t' me." He winced as he moved wrong and pain shot through his side, but he wasn't going to let his physical ailment deter him. "An' you should know it ain't all about sex, Carol." She didn't look convinced. He hissed as she reached down and brushed her hand over his erection. "I ain't sayin' I don't want y'," he growled. "Jus' that th' world ain't gonna crash into th' sun if I never get t' make love t' y'."

          A watery smile tilted her lips up. "I don't want to disappoint you."

          Again, he shook his head. "I don't see that happenin' …  _ever_."

          Carol's breath hitched painfully in her chest, finding it hard to believe it had taken an apocalypse to find the one man who she could love unreservedly and have him return her feelings in the same way. All her life, she'd wanted a love like this … a partner, a friend, someone she could treasure. She pulled him to her, careful of his wound, and buried her face in the crook of his neck. Her hands soothed over the scars on his back, and she found a hidden strength she hadn't known she possessed. "I don't want to be afraid anymore."

          His hand cupped her nape as he pulled her back to meet his earnest gaze. "Y' ain't never got t' fear  _anythin'_  from me, an' y' ain't gotta worry that I'll make y' do somethin' y' don't want."

          She bit her lip, unsure, but there was a new determination in her eyes. "Can we try?" she asked, instantly dropping her gaze to his lips. "I want to. I know with your wound we can't do much … but I want you to touch me."

          He felt like his brain was going to short circuit. Did she really just say she wanted him to touch her?  _Please god, don't let my muddled head be fuckin' with me right now!_ He didn't resist when she pulled him down to her lips, eagerly accepting her kiss. "Y' sure?"

          Carol nodded, pressing herself closer to his toned chest, her fingers carding through his shaggy hair, grounding herself. "Yes …" she sighed.

          Daryl felt all his insecurities rear their ugly head. No, he wouldn't let his past in to ruin the moment. This was his woman, his Carol. Nothing would destroy what he sought to bring her. "Y'know I ain't good at this sorta thing, but –"

          She pressed a finger to his lips, banishing his self-doubt with a single touch. "Show me, Daryl."

          His brother's voice echoed through his head, offering well-meaning advice from years past, but he pushed it aside. He focused on touch alone, listening attentively to the breathy little sighs and moans she made when he did something to please her. She felt so wonderful in his arms, so  _right_ , as if she'd been made specifically for him. His lips trailed slowly over her jaw to the delicate shell of her ear, tenderly taking the lobe into his mouth to suck gently.

          Daryl skimmed his hand along her side, his fingers inching along the hem of her peasant blouse. He groaned into the crook of her neck when his hand encountered the smooth soft skin at her waist. "Take this off for me," he commanded gently, his voice no more than an agonized whisper. He didn't want to scare her by being too harsh. All the blood in his body was racing south, a fiery blaze which settled into his cock, and it was an effort to keep his touch light when he wanted to take her in a feral haze of carnal lust.

          It was made worse when she obeyed, and he realized she wasn't wearing a bra. "Gawd, woman!" he growled, pressing his face into the valley between her breasts, fighting for some semblance of control.

          "I'm behind a bit on the laundry," she apologized with a sheepish grin.

          His lips teased her, his tongue darting out to lick a long slow path there before he cupped a breast in each hand. His breath hitched at the perfect weight of her pressed into his palms. How long had he wanted to touch her like this, he mused. She panted beneath him, her lower lip firmly clamped between her pearly teeth. His gaze sought hers, asking for permission to continue. Her dilated pupils weren't enough. He wouldn't take anything for granted with this woman.

          Carol nodded fervently, and Daryl held her gaze as his lips descended to take one pebbled nipple into his mouth. His heart nearly stopped as she arched beneath him, pressing more of herself into the hot recesses of his mouth. She was so responsive to the slightest touch, and he had to remind himself once again that she needed gentleness. His fingers ghosted over its twin as his tongue swirled and flicked over his treasure. He would worship her body with his lips until she made him stop.

          "Daryl …" she cried as his teeth scraped against her taut bud, her face flushed with desire, and he had to reach down to adjust himself. This wasn't about him. This was for his woman. It was a gift she was granting, allowing him to acquaint her with his touch. He would be patient and vigilant, ready to give her all of himself when she felt it was time.

          Her legs clenched tightly around the thigh he still had pressed to her core as his hand wandered lightly over her bare belly. A rumble of pleasure sounded in his chest at the feel of her beneath his fingertips. So perfect, he wanted to mark her, to claim her. She was  _his._  He bit gently just beneath her navel, and she mewled, a wanton sound which made him press his cock into her hip to relieve some of his ache.

          Daryl moved his thigh against her, back and forth until she thrashed against him, her pleasure building. His lips covered hers again, unable to deny himself the temptation as his fingers popped the button on her jeans open.

          Carol froze, going rigid in his arms. Her chest heaved in shallow panting breaths, and her eyes were wide pools of stark fear. Daryl locked his gaze with hers. "D'you want me t' stop?"

          Her lip trembled, and her cheeks bloomed with mortified color.

          "Tell me, woman," he whispered seriously. "Tell me what y' want."

          Carol dropped her gaze as she willed her heart to stop its frantic tempo. It had felt so good to have his hands on her, his lips driving her to a state of bliss she'd never experienced before. She didn't know anyone could feel like that, least of all her. And it had been the most pleasurable moment of her life until he had moved to unfasten her pants. No one had ever touched her there aside from Ed and her own hands, and with him … she had known nothing but pain and fear and degradation. Why couldn't she force her mind to block him out?

 _He's dead, Carol. Ed is dead and can't hurt you anymore,_  she told herself over and over again.  _Daryl would cut off his own hand if he hurt you, and you know it._ She trembled when he slid his arm beneath her shoulders, his free hand rubbing soothing circles on her belly. Despite the obvious hardness pressing into her hip, he seemed content to simply hold her. Was he for real? Ed would have taken her regardless of her feelings on the matter, and he wouldn't have cared if she wanted his attentions or not.  _I'm so messed up, and yet he wants me anyway._

          His lips ghosted over her temple. "It's ok. I got y'," he whispered, a litany of soothing refrains meant to comfort her.

          Carol squeezed the thigh which was still between her own, and pressed her lips to his throat. "Don't stop, Daryl," she whispered, running a tentative hand over his chest.

          He sucked in a ragged breath at her touch and leaned away to look into her eyes. He shivered at the unveiled trust shining there. "Y' sure? We can stop if you're uncomfortable."

          "I don't want you to." She took his hand and pressed a lingering kiss to his palm and then brought it to rest over her zipper. "Touch me."

          Daryl shivered, her voice a silken caress against every nerve ending along his spine. He rubbed his fingers against her over the rough fabric of her jeans, gently, soothingly as he introduced her to this new touch. She arched into him, clinging desperately as her nails scored the patchwork of scars on his shoulder. His lips found hers again, distracting her as he lowered the zipper. His fingers danced lightly over the lace of her drawers, and her hips arched up, seeking him.

          "That feel good, baby?" he crooned, nipping at her lips.

          She nodded her head furiously, incapable of speech.

          He skimmed his fingers beneath the waistband of her lacy underwear and smiled faintly against her lips. "Soft touch, Carol … always for  _you_. Never want y' t' be scared. Jus' want y' t' feel good."

          Daryl pushed her legs wider, and reached for his prize, a new surge of lust sweeping fast towards his cock as he felt the wetness coating his hand. Again, he caressed her before going further, giving her time to adjust.

          "Daryl … I need …  _need_  … ungh!" she gasped.

          Somehow, he knew just what she needed, following his instincts. His previous experience with the opposite sex seemed to be a million light years in his past, and all around inappropriate for what his woman needed. His middle finger traced her soaked slit and gently parted her, his thumb going to her clit to give her the friction she desired. She moaned loudly, and he nearly came in his pants as her teeth sank into his shoulder. "Fuckin' hell, woman!"

          He bucked against her hip and his sounds of pleasure joined hers, echoing off the cream-colored walls. He was steadily losing it, and he was far from done. His fingers delved into her, past the tight ring of muscle at her entrance, her walls grasping at him, welcoming him inside. He continued the pressure on her little bundle of nerves as he began moving his fingers in a gentle rhythm, his lips, teeth and tongue moving in tandem with hers. He couldn't stop his own body from responding to her, thrusting against her hip. He was so close, knowing he was going to cum … but not without her.

          He fought for breath. He fought for his sanity, never having felt anything like what he had found in her arms, and he never wanted it to end. She cried his name, the sound of it on her lips feeding some long dead part of his soul. And then she went rigid in his arms, but this time her mouth formed a little 'o' of surprise, and she flushed with pleasure as she broke apart and gave in to the ecstasy he'd wrought on her body.

          Daryl shuddered as he followed her, the sight of watching her cum more than he could take. She curled against him, her arms gripping him tightly as he eased his hand away. It wasn't until his heart had slowed and he could easily breathe again that he noticed the slight shake to her shoulders and the wetness spreading over his chest.  _Damnit! Knew he'd fuck it up somehow._

          "Carol? Y' ok? Was I too rough?" he asked, ignoring the telltale insecurity in his voice.

          She lifted her watery gaze to his, and cradled his face in her hands, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "I love you, Daryl Dixon, and I thank God for the day you drove into that quarry with your brother."

          He smiled shyly, not used to having anyone thankful for his ass in any way, shape or form. Just wasn't done. "Love y' too."

          Carol shivered, despite the warmth of his embrace. "I should get dressed and let you sleep," she murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth as he grinned lazily. He let her go, his gaze wandering appreciatively over her bare back before she pulled her shirt on. Yet she didn't rise from the bed. "Daryl?"

          "Hmm?" he hummed, wondering how much longer it would be before sleep claimed him. He still needed to get up and change, and he debated if it was worth the effort.

          "Thank you."

          That had him frowning. "For what?"

          She sighed, wiping away a fresh onslaught of tears. "For showing me what it's supposed to be like. For teaching me it's not all about pain and fear."

          Daryl pulled her back onto the bed, spooning against her back and crossing his arms over her chest as the beast within him growled. He was possessive and protective of his woman and he'd be damned if he ever let anyone hurt her again, least of all him. "Stay. Forget about everything else an' stay with me."

          Carol smiled and let go, needing his love, their deep and powerful connection to bind her to him all the more. Some would look upon what they shared as foolhardy … stupid to fall in love during such a time of unrest and danger. But she felt she'd finally found something aside from her daughter to cling to. She had a reason to fight … to live. She nestled back into him and closed her eyes, feeling her limbs heavy and sated, enveloped by his love and strength. Everything else could wait.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next time: Shane starts to wake up, Rick and Lori have a confrontation, and Daryl makes plans. This chapter is one of my personal favorites, so I really hope you all enjoyed it, too! Thanks for reading!


	35. Chapter 35

 

          Carol smiled as her eyes fluttered open to find Daryl sound asleep, his face resting in the valley between her breasts. She didn't think she'd ever seen him smile in his sleep like that before. She pressed a kiss to his crown and his arms tightened about her waist, but he didn't wake. The sated heaviness of her limbs was still with her, even after her nap. He'd been right. She  _had_  needed a respite. She still couldn't believe she'd been able to let him touch her like that. What was even more surprising was the fact she'd enjoyed it so much. She'd let go of her fear, putting her faith in him, and it had made all the difference. She wondered if it would be just as easy when he was better and wanted more. But she wasn't going to worry herself into a panic. She trusted him with every fiber of her being. It would be different this time.

          Her fingers carded through Daryl's soft hair, holding him closer. She'd never get enough of being this close to him. And he loved her. When the hell had that happened? He was like a drug, and she a willing junkie. She knew he valued her friendship, just as she knew he'd begun to want more. Her heart had been lost to him long ago. So much so, Jenner had been able to see through her mask to her feelings for Daryl. He'd planted that seed in her mind, and it had only grown until she could see the truth of those feelings. But she'd never thought Daryl would return them. Caring and friendship, but not love. She was almost giddy with glee.

          Carol reached for the sheet twisted around Daryl's hips as the door opened and Lori poked her head in, but she was unable to cover his scarred back before her friend saw the evidence of his past. Lori covered her mouth with a hand, her eyes riveted to the pair in the bed. Carol gently extricated herself from Daryl's embrace and padded silently to the door, ushering Lori out into the hall.

          The brunette turned on her as soon as the door closed, her voice a furious whisper. "Oh, god, Carol. What the hell happened to him? His back -"

          Carol shushed her, taking her hands in hers. "His father was  _not_  a good man, Lori. Please … please don't say anything to anyone. Hershel and Rick have seen them, but it's not something the entire group needs to know. Daryl is very sensitive."

          Their leader's wife shook her head. "No, of course not. I promise I won't say anything." But she decided then and there to put forth more of an effort to be nicer to him.

          "Was there something you needed?" Carol asked quietly. "I have to check on Sophia, but then I'm all yours."

          Lori brightened as they ventured down the hall towards the kitchen. "No, not really. I just wanted to let you know Shane's showing signs of waking up. Hershel is optimistic about his progress. Oh, and Maggie was looking for you."

          Carol squeezed her hand before letting go to pour them each a cup of coffee. It seemed like the Greene girls kept a fresh pot no matter the time of day. She could see Carl and Sophia playing in the backyard, their happy laughter a soothing balm for her soul. "I'm so glad. I know what it would do to Rick if something happened to his partner." She added non-dairy creamer and sugar and passed it to Lori. "And how about you, hmm? How are you holding up through all of this?"

          Lori stared down into her cup for a long moment. "Fine. He's still my friend, Carol."

          "I know. You look a little pale; have you eaten?"

          "Yeah, I had a sandwich for lunch." Lori smiled knowingly. "Stop worrying."

          "Nope. You're my friend. I'm always going to worry," Carol chuckled.

          Sophia and Carl charged through the back door, bows over their shoulders, looking for a cold drink as they opened the fridge. "Hi, Mama! Rick set us up this huge target on the fence. And Carl finally hit the bullseye!"

          The boy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well you've had yours longer than I have," he grumbled. "Just wait 'til Daryl teaches us how to use our guns. Bet I'm gonna be a better shot than you."

          Sophia snorted, and leaned back against the counter as she sipped her soda. "Keep tellin' yourself that, Grimes."

          Carol and Lori shared a laugh. She was surprised Lori wasn't upset at the thought of her son learning to use the .38 Daryl had given him.

          "C'mon, Sophia. Dad wants us to help Dale fix the awning on the RV."

          The girl groaned. "Well if you hadn't shot a hole in it, we wouldn't have to help patch it."

          "It was an accident!"

          "Yeah, whatever." She tugged on his sleeve. "C'mon, Robin Hood."

          Carol sat back and sipped at her coffee. "Rick sitting with Shane now?"

          Lori nodded and rubbed an idle hand over her stomach, the coffee making her a bit queasy. "Yeah, he said I needed a break." She leaned forward, her elbows on the table. "So, how are things with you and Daryl? You two looked mighty cozy in there."

          Carol’s blush disappeared into her hairline. "Things are good," she said, trying to sound casual when her heart was racing just thinking of his hands on her body.

          The brunette arched a brow, a wide grin spreading over her face. "From the looks of that blush, I'd say things are better than just good."

          Carol shrugged one shoulder. " _Very_  good?"

          Lori shook her head ruefully. "I'm so happy for you. Or rather, I'm happy Dixon makes you happy."

          "He really does," she murmured softly.

          "Lori! Lori, Shane's awake. He's asking for you," Rick huffed, skidding to a halt in the kitchen. "C'mon!"

          Carol rose to follow them, but Maggie bustled into the kitchen through the back door, a dead chicken held in either hand. "There you are. Are you still up for teaching me that dish you were telling me about last night?" she asked hopefully. "I really don't want Glenn to think I'm completely useless in the kitchen."

          Carol sighed, casting the young woman a warm smile. "Of course." There really was no end to the needs of the group, and she thrived on it. She retrieved an apron from the hook inside the pantry and tied it about her waist. "You seem to have taken a shine to him."

          Maggie tucked a stray lock of chestnut hair behind her ear as a blush stole into her cheeks. "Is it that obvious?"

          Carol moved over to the sink and began pulling feathers from one of the chickens. "There's nothing wrong with being attracted to someone, Maggie. And to be honest, I think he's quite taken with you."

          "You could say that," she mumbled, her blush deepening.

          "Oh?"

          "I kinda had sex with him," she blurted out, turning to face her new friend.

          Carol's eyes went wide as she lost her grip on the fowl. "I beg your pardon?"

          Maggie covered her mouth with both hands. "We went on a run to town this morning for more medical supplies for Dad and … we had sex … right there in the pharmacy. Oh, god!"

          Carol washed her hands and dried them on a clean dish towel before she pulled Maggie over to the table and made her sit down. "Alright, take a deep breath before you hyperventilate," she urged, talking her down from the beginnings of a full-blown panic attack. "Now I have to ask … is this a one-time thing, or do you really care for him? I know you haven't known him long, but sometimes that doesn't matter."

          "I think I really care for him, and it scares me to death. I mean … with the state of the world, we don't know how much time we have left. I didn't even think; I just acted," the woman murmured dejectedly. "But then when we were done, I found myself thinking I didn't want anything to happen to him. I want to  _know_ him, Carol. I know I'm crazy. God, you must think I'm a total slut. I mean who starts a relationship in the middle of an apocalypse?!"

          Carol raised her hand. "Guilty, and no I don't think you're a slut."

          "What?"

          She sighed. "Daryl and I haven't been together long. Two months, maybe."

          "But Sophia?"

          "She was from my previous marriage … if you could even call it that," Carol said bitterly. "My husband was abusive, and it was hard to hide anything from the others, especially when we're all practically living on top of one another. Daryl took exception to how Ed treated me and convinced me to come stay with him and his brother in their tent. They protected me and my daughter until the camp was attacked and Ed died."

          Maggie's brows scrunched together in sympathy. "Rick introduced y'all as a family. And I've heard Sophia call him Dad."

          "Because he prefers to think of us that way. Just another ruse to offer protection. Or at least that's how it started."

          "You're in love," Maggie said simply. Seeing the Dixons so happy, even amidst the chaos, gave her hope. "So, you don't think I'm crazy for wanting to get to know Glenn better?"

          "Who am I to judge when I've done the same thing, Maggie? I would say love and hope, and happiness are a rare treasure, and now more than ever it should be cherished as a gift. Otherwise, why are we still here? What reasons do we have to keep going?"

          Maggie reached out and hugged her new friend. "Thank you, Carol. You don't know what it means to hear you say that."

          Carol hugged her in return and then pulled away. "Come on. We've got a dinner to prepare," she smiled.

          The girl hesitated, looking a bit worried. "Please don't tell my dad, ok? He doesn't think I should get close to any of you."

          "I know he doesn't want us here, Maggie, but you can't imagine how much we appreciate it. For him to take us in and care for Shane, and then again for Daryl," Carol said.

          "Well,  _I'm_  glad you're here. I don't like the circumstances, but I believe it was God's will for y'all to be here." She moved to the sink and began working on the second chicken. "He's trying to do his Christian duty, y'know."

          "And you want us to stay, right?"

          Maggie nudged her with her shoulder and grinned. "I like having y'all here. Not just for Glenn," she assured her quickly. "All of you. It's nice to have new friends."

          Carol smirked. "Especially ones who can teach you to cook?"

          "Well, it helps."

 

*.*.*

 

          "I thought you said he was awake," Lori said as she sank down in the chair next to the bed.

          "He's slowly regaining consciousness." Hershel hovered nearby, tucking the blood pressure cuff back into his bag. "It's going to take a while for him to be fully lucid, but it's a start. Give him time."

          "At least he's out of danger," Rick said, sitting on the edge of the mattress. "Right?" He looked to the older man for reassurance.

          The doctor nodded. "Yes, he's going to recover. If you will excuse me, I'll let the rest of your group know."

          Rick's smile was genuine and filled with relief when he reached out and squeezed his friend's hand. "After everything we've all been through, I couldn't stand the thought of losing him too," he said quietly. "I know we argue, but it's how it's always been with us since we were kids."

          Shane's grip tightened on Rick's hand, and his eyes rolled rapidly behind his lids. "Lori … Lori, where's Carl? Got to … got to protect him," he wheezed. "C-Can't let Rick down."

          Her eyes filled with tears and she laid her hand on his wrist, so they were both gripping him, offering comfort and support. "I'm here. Carl's safe. Don't worry about us," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "It's ok."

          "Come on back to us, man; we need you," Rick added.

          "Lori … I'm sorry," he murmured, and they had to lean closer to hear him. "I love you …"

          Rick snatched his hand back as if he'd been burned, his hardened gaze flickering over to his wife, taking note of her bloodless face and wide eyes. "What was that?": he asked, his voice barely more than an agonized whisper. "Did he just say –"

          "We're not doing this here," she insisted. "Whatever is going through your head right now … It can wait until we're outside."

          "So, there  _is_  something to talk about?"

          She wiped a tear from her cheek as the door opened and Carl stuck his head in, his little face wreathed in smiles. "Dad, Hershel said Shane was better!"

          Rick schooled his features for his son. Carl didn't need to know of the turmoil brewing with hurricane strength inside him. "He is, buddy. He'll be waking up soon."

          Lori hugged her child close to her, stalling for time. "Me and your dad need to talk, baby. Do you want to sit with Shane for a while, so we can take a walk outside?"

          The boy beamed up at his mother and took her seat, pulling a comic book from the back pocket of his jeans. "Sure, Mom."

          The pair nearly collided with Daryl on his way to the kitchen, but Rick kept going, storming through the house until he could fling himself out the back door. Lori murmured a quick apology, and ducked out behind him, following him across the yard. She was prepared for his anger, had even braced herself for it. The abject hurt in his eyes, the horror of betrayal as he turned to face her. It was a kick to the gut. His obvious pain left her speechless, and more than a little sick.

          Rick stared at her for a long moment. "I think I knew from the beginning." He took a deep shuddering breath. "The way he'd look at you … the longing. I could see it. I guess I just didn't want to believe it."

          "Rick –"

          He held up a hand. "You thought I was dead," he rasped. "You moved on."

          Lori crossed her arms over her chest and hung her head, surreptitiously swiping at the tears streaming over her face. "It wasn't like that. I was grieving, scared … I needed to feel something other than how terrified I was, Rick. He was your friend, someone I could trust, especially after he'd risked his life to get me and Carl out of King County. He was there for me, and I didn't feel so alone. I was drowning in grief!"

          He paced before her, his mind awhirl and his heart in pieces. He wanted so badly to hate her, to push her away. "D-Do you love him?"

          A sob tore free of her as she watched him break, and she stepped closer, resting her hand over his heart. She shook her head furiously. "No. No, Rick … I love  _you._  When I saw you at the quarry, all I could think of was how? How had you survived? How was it you had managed to come back to us? Nothing else mattered aside from the fact you were alive, and I had my husband back."

          His hand rose to cover hers. "I never would have stopped until I found you, Lori. You and Carl … you're  _everything_  to me. But I need to know … I need to know you're not still sleeping with Shane."

          Her face twisted with the turmoil brewing within her, the guilt of what she'd done still weighing on her. "No. It's over. It's been over since the moment I saw you that day in camp, and Shane knows that. He promised not to say anything because it was a mistake, and we didn't want to hurt you. I'm committed to  _you._  I love  _you."_

          He didn't want to admit he was afraid. How was he going to show the group he was a strong leader if he couldn't even show stability in his own personal relationships? And despite what she'd done … he still loved her with his whole heart. "I can't hold you responsible for something you did when you thought I was dead."

          "Please, Rick," she whispered, her lower lip trembling. "Please let us start over. I'm so sorry … please."

 

*.*.*

 

          "Why are you out of the bed?" Carol asked, her eyes wide to see Daryl standing there in the doorway. "You're supposed to be resting."

          "I'm good," he drawled, making his way over to where she was standing at the stove to peek into the pot she was stirring. "Hershel checked my wound an' said I could get up. 'Sides, I was goin' stir crazy in there."

          "I'm glad to see you're doing better, Daryl," Maggie said, her arms covered in flour to the elbow. She smiled as she dumped another handful of dumplings into the pot of broth on the stove.

          Daryl nodded with a jerk of his chin in her direction. He leaned in close to Carol so only she would hear. "Ain't she th' daughter that cain't cook?"

          Carol stifled a laugh. "She just needs some assistance."

          "Y' see where Rick went? Him an' Lori 'bout knocked me down in th' hall," he asked, peering out the back door. "Nevermind."

          Carol shifted over to his side. "Daryl! Don't spy on them; it's not nice."

          "S'that right? Whoever said I was nice, anyway?"

          She smirked and leaned up to kiss his cheek which made him blush with the other girl in the room. "I happen to know just how nice you really are, Dixon," she purred.

          He ducked his head which brought his attention back to the bickering couple outside. "That shit looks serious. Think she finally came clean with 'im about Deputy Dolittle?"

          She pulled him away and shut the wood door. "It's none of our business, Daryl. Let's just hope whatever it is, they'll be able to work it out between them."

          Maggie frowned and leaned closer to the window to look out at the couple. "She's crying, Carol. Are they having marital troubles, y'think?"

          "Maggie!"

          "Sorry. I just really like y'all. The group … y'all are all close even though the lot of you seem to have nothing in common," she observed. "I hate to see them so upset." She gave the pot a stir. "Can you watch this for a minute. I want to ask Daddy if I can invite you all to have dinner with us."

          "You don't have to do that. It was enough you let us store our perishables in your freezer. We can cook outside," Carol insisted, not wanting to wear their welcome even thinner. "And your father has done so much for us as it is. We don't want to impose."

          Daryl leaned over the pot again, his eyes closing in bliss as he smelled the contents within. "Speak for yourself, woman. I want a bowl o' this when it's ready. I can't remember th' last time I had chicken 'n dumplin's."

          Carol snorted. "Don't listen to him. He's ruled by his stomach."

          Maggie laughed. "I'll be right back."

          He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled Carol into him the second Maggie skipped out the door. She sighed as his lips teased along her neck. "Didn't like wakin' up an' you not there with me."

          "I stayed as long as I could."

          He grumbled incoherently.

          "What was that?" she chuckled, running a hand through his shaggy hair.

          "I don't like wakin' up an' not knowin' where y’ are." He didn't care at the moment if he sounded insecure. He wasn't used to having a relationship, and he was still adjusting.

          "Never too far you won't be able to find me, Daryl." She knew how hard it was for him to allow her out of his sight. This new world was so uncertain, and his biggest fear was losing someone else he loved. "There's not too much trouble I can get into here on the farm, y'know."

          "Pfft," he scoffed, sitting gingerly in one of the kitchen chairs. "You an' our girl are danger magnets. There's always somethin' y'all can get into."

          Andrea followed Maggie back into the kitchen, wringing her hands nervously. Not at all a common occurrence with the blonde. He arched a brow at her as she sat down at the table. "How're you feeling?"

          "Not too bad, Blondie."

          She winced as she took in the deep groove her bullet had made in the side of his temple. It was healing, but would no doubt leave a scar. "I'm so sorry I shot you."

          He leveled her with a calm look. The hour he'd spent with Carol that afternoon had done wonders for his mood. "Stop. You were protectin' the group. I know how I musta looked when I came outta those woods."

          "There was a glare on my scope," she shrugged.

          "Then you shouldn't have fired," Carol said, turning to look at her friend. "You don't have to prove anything, Andrea. We love you; you're a part of us."

          Maggie glanced over her shoulder where she stood at the sink washing a large cabbage, but didn't butt in.

          "Listen t’ her," Daryl nodded at his woman. "She's right. Ain't nobody gonna kick y' out if y' don't find your place. Hell, I threw squirrels at Rick an' then went after 'im with m' knife. I'm still here."

          "I just wanted to apologize. I need to go. I have watch with Dale."

          Daryl eyed her steadily as she rose from her seat. "It's a'right. But y' shoot me again … y' best pray I'm dead."

 

*.*.*

 

          Tensions were high that night at dinner. Carol could hardly stomach what was on her plate, and it seemed to her Daryl and the children were the only ones not affected by the strife prevalent in the air. She found herself wishing Maggie hadn't pushed the envelope and convinced her father to let them join the Greene family for dinner. She would much rather have had a quiet dinner with Daryl and Sophia around the campfire. Maybe she'd feel better once they were enclosed in their nylon abode later that evening. Daryl had refused to spend another night in the house, and even though she'd miss the softness of the bed, she knew she'd be more at ease – as would her hunter – in more familiar surroundings.

          Maggie beamed under her father's praise of her new culinary skills, but it was Glenn's quiet acclaim which had her blushing with pride. She'd reached over and squeezed Carol's hand in silent thanks, and Carol couldn't help but feel proud for the young woman.

          Amidst the tension, everyone still seemed to put away an obscene amount of the food she and Maggie had prepared. The immense pot of chicken and dumplings was nearly empty, and they were making progress with the cabbage, corn and sausage balls. Carl was going to hurt himself if he didn't slow down. But the group knew what it was like to go without, to wonder when they'd find their next meal. Daryl was already talking about taking the children hunting with him. They needed to learn, after all.

          Rick talked quietly with Hershel, and ignored Lori altogether. Carol already had plans to talk to her the following morning. Glenn and Maggie were casting doe eyes at one another. If they didn't stop, there'd be no hiding the budding relationship from the girl’s father. T-Dog and Dale were chatting amiably with Patricia and Otis about helping out with some of the farm chores planned for the following day, and Sophia had her head together with Beth talking about things they missed in school. Her daughter really had been a science and math nerd, and though the girl complained about lessons Carol and Lori still forced on her and Carl, she knew Sophia loved it.

          Hours later, once the dishes had been done and goodnights had been said, Carol was finally allowed to relax in the comfort of the tent she shared with Daryl and Sophia. The girl had barely made it to her bedroll before she had fallen asleep, leaving Carol to sigh and curl up next to Daryl's warm weight.

          He smiled down at her just before he claimed a soft kiss. "What're y' thinkin', woman? Y' been too quiet all evenin'," he murmured softly, not wanting to disturb Sophia.

          "Hmm? I was just thinking about how much I like it here. I'm enjoying the tranquility," she said honestly. "But I'm worried about how long Hershel's good will may last."

          "Rick's tryin' t' talk him into lettin' us stay for a while, but I don't think it's goin' so good." Daryl glanced over at Sophia as she snuffled softly and curled against her mother's back. "Y' want stability for Soph. I understand that more than y' think."

          "As much as I wish this was the answer to our prayers, it's not. I know we need to find a better place. We need walls, Daryl; something we can defend. If walkers ventured this far … a herd the size we met on the highway … we wouldn't stand a chance." She soothed a comforting hand over his side, her fingers tracing the edge of his bandage beneath his shirt. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound so morbid."

          He hummed low in the back of his throat. "It's th' truth, though. I need t' start trainin' th' group. Me an' Rick need t' make sure they at least have a basic knowledge of th' weapons we have on hand. An' once my side heals, I wanna show you an' Soph some things … hand t' hand techniques. Walkers ain't th' only evil out there."

          "I'm so proud of you," she whispered softly as he pulled her closer.

          "Why?" He still couldn't quite understand how she saw so much more of him than what there was.

          "Because you're beginning to find your place, Daryl. You're starting to see how much we all need you. You're not running from them any longer."

          Daryl buried his face against her throat, feeling sleep pull at him. "For you, woman. I jus' want y' t' be happy. Nothing else matters t' me aside from you and Sophia, but I can see being with th' group does that. As long as they treat y' right … we'll stay."

          "Thank you."

          "For what?"

          "Being you." Her fingers teased along the tense muscles at the top of his spine and she could feel the strain slowly draining from his body. "I love you."

          Just before sleep claimed him she heard him whisper, "Love y' too."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for posting so late … busy busy with editing. Next time: Shooting lessons, a dip in the pond, and Carol discovers a secret.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter Thirty-Six

 

          It took several days for Rick to finally pull his head out of his ass and start to take an interest in the group once again. Daryl really couldn't blame him. He didn't even want to think about how he'd feel if Carol thought he was dead and moved on so quickly to another man, especially one he valued as a friend. He actually found himself feeling sorry for the guy. Rick wasn't so bad. He wasn't so good, but he wasn't the worst. God knows, he was trying to do right by the group.

          Carol had begged him to give himself a chance to heal before venturing out to the woods to hunt, so Daryl had stuck close to the camp, occasionally venturing into the house when Carol or one of the Greene girls asked for his assistance. He was still wary of his girls getting close to these strangers. They'd only be hurt when they were forced to move on. He could see the old man was getting antsy having them about. Yet, Shane still needed time to recover, and they couldn't go just yet. Rick was spending a lot of time helping Hershel out on the farm, and even more trying to convince the man to let them stay.

          It would be ideal if they could. Daryl could hunt – at least enough to fill the big deep freezer in the basement – before winter set in. Travel would be hard then. He'd much rather his girls have some stability in the colder months, some warmth and security. He didn't relish the idea of moving place to place without shelter or the guarantee of a hot meal for them. He never thought he'd come to love anyone as he did Carol and Sophia. He had little experience with love, the feeling which grew in his chest everyday foreign and strange to him. But he wouldn't trade anything for it. It made him stronger, knowing they had given themselves to him. Their trust and love meant more to him than anything.

          Daryl smirked down at the children sitting in the grass at the bottom of the porch steps. They looked like little statues as they sat there blindfolded … practicing patience. He felt as though Sophia needed the lesson after she'd bolted on the highway. He couldn't go through something like that again. Carl, of course, had insisted on joining her. If she were to be taught something useful, he wanted to learn too. It was an admirable trait for a kid so young.

          He sat behind them on the steps and flicked the feathered tip of the bolt in his hand against Sophia's ear before doing the same to Carl. Neither of them so much as flinched. They'd been at it for the better part of two hours, and already they'd made remarkable progress. He remembered the same lesson being given to him by his brother, and how much he had hated it. Each flick of that damn feather had made him want to jump up and pound Merle's head in. They were learning much quicker than he had.

          "A'right, Soph … what d'you smell?" he asked. He interspersed the flick of the feather with questions, testing their senses. He didn't want them to become bored too quickly. The children were enjoying that part of the lesson.

          The girl inhaled deeply, focusing on her sense of smell as she lost herself in the moment. "Fresh baked bread," she sighed wistfully, her belly growling.

          "Carl? An' I swear if y' tell me grass again, I'ma whack y' with this arrow."

          The boy didn't move a muscle aside from the slight flaring of his nostrils. "Split wood?" he answered tentatively.

          Daryl drew in a deep breath, the scent of strewn grass, hay from the barn, fresh bread hot out of the oven, and indeed the piney smell of split wood assailed him. "Good job. Ok, back to being still."

          Rick came out onto the front porch, and Daryl waved him to silence before he could say anything. "Who?" he asked the children. So far that morning, they'd been able to identify T-Dog, Dale and even Maggie just by the sound of their footsteps.

          "My dad!" Carl said, grinning ear to ear.

          "He's easy. You hear him walk all the time," Sophia protested.

          "Don't matter. He's still right," Daryl replied. His 'daughter' was becoming more of a Dixon every day, and her snark reminded him of Merle and how much he missed him.

          Rick sat down on the steps next to him, waving a hand at the kids. "What's all this?" he chuckled. It was the first time he'd found humor in anything in days.

          Daryl shrugged.

          Carl whipped the blindfold off to grin at his dad. "Daryl's teaching us a lesson in patience and sensory perception. He says it's important to know your surroundings by more than sight, and we have to learn not to let our emotions make us jump the gun and run into danger."

          Daryl grinned. The boy's mind was like a steel trap. "So, what's up?" he asked their leader.

          "Hershel told us we can use the south pasture if you still wanted to help train up the group a bit. How's your side? You feel up to it?"

          "Bout damn time. Yeah I'm up to it." He looked down at the kids and the hopeful expressions on their young faces. "Y' gonna let Carl practice too, right?"

          Rick sighed. "I really don't want him to, but I don't really have a choice, do I?"

          Daryl nodded. "No. Boy needs t' learn t' defend himself. We don't know where we gonna end up when we leave here. Y' don't want him t' get separated from th' group an' not know how t' take care o' himself."

          "You're right." He clapped the hunter on the shoulder and smiled. "Let's start rounding everyone up. We can leave within the hour."

          Daryl flinched, but held his tongue. "What about your boy Shane? Y' got somebody on babysittin' duty?"

          Rick scowled before schooling his features into a calm façade. Carl didn't need to see how much the man's name upset him. "He's getting better. No need really."

          Carl followed his father back into the house, leaving Sophia alone with Daryl. "That was mean, Dad," she admonished, moving to sit beside him.

          "Yeah? Whatcha know about what's goin' on with them anyway?"

          "It's not a secret," she shrugged. "But Carl loves Shane as much as his Daddy, and I don't want him to be hurt by something we might say."

          Daryl dropped his chin into his hand and tilted his head towards her. "Sometimes, y' get hurt, Soph. Things people say, things they do. Cain't go hidin' under a rock t' protect yerself."

          "He's my friend. I'll protect him if I want," she insisted stubbornly.

"You're a good friend. Hope that boy appreciates y'." He rose to his feet and held out his hand to her. "C'mon, girl, let's go shoot somethin'!"

 

*.*.*

 

          Rick and T-Dog talked animatedly as they grabbed the sack of glass bottles and tin cans from the back of Daryl's pick up and made their way to the fence to set up the targets. The kids were hardly able to contain their excitement, especially Carl. Even the adults had a frenetic energy about them as Daryl began passing out some of the guns. Andrea and Carol would be using their own, but Daryl wanted to train her up a bit on some of the rifles. He had every faith in her that she'd do well. She was a quick learner, her desire to adapt and thrive in the new world a good motivation.

          He made sure the others were outfitted before choosing one of the rifles for Carol. She already knew how to handle the set of .45's he'd given her. The time would be better spent teaching her a new weapon. Sophia took her time reacquainting herself with Merle's piece, the 9mm seeming to fit well in her small hands. He'd leave her to it since he'd already taught her the basics.

          Carol stared at the rifle, arching a brow up at him when he placed it in her hands. "You want me to shoot this? Why?" she questioned, taking several rounds from his outstretched hand.

          Daryl's eyes surveyed the group. Beth and Maggie were more used to the rifles their father owned, so Rick had them working with the handguns. T-Dog seemed to have stepped up to help Jimmy. The hunter shook his head, thinking the boy seemed hopeless. Rick was working with Lori and Carl, and he was glad to see some of the animosity which had existed between them was no longer there.

          "Naw, woman … I want y' t' use it t' stir the cook pot tonight at dinner," he snarked, his lip curling up into a smirk. "Of course, I want y' t' shoot it. Before we're done, I want y' t' know how t' shoot everythin' we have in our arsenal. Want y' t' be prepared."

          Carol narrowed her eyes at him, fighting a grin. She turned her attention to the weapon in her hands, studying it carefully before releasing the chamber and loading in the shells. She didn't shy away from it, nor was she afraid. She felt a confidence she wouldn't have had in her old life, and she knew it was because he had so much faith in her. It was heavy and awkward as she held it up and looked down the sight, but she refused to let on.

          "Like this?" she asked as it came to rest against her shoulder.

          Daryl stepped behind her and altered her stance, much as he'd done at the quarry when he’d been teaching her how to shoot the .45. He moved the stock to rest between her shoulder and clavicle, his hand covering hers where it held the barrel securely. Her other hand was in the correct position without him having to instruct her. She was so thin, he worried the kickback was going to bruise. "Plant your feet, because it's gonna kick."

          Carol squinted down the barrel, and brought her finger to the trigger, breathing in and firing on the exhale. The shot sent her careening into his solid chest and missed the target altogether. "Damnit!"

          He took the weapon from her and laid it on the ground while she rubbed at her aching shoulder. "Y' ok? Lemme see," he commanded gently.

          Daryl peeled back the collar of her button up to see her skin already beginning to bruise. His broad back hid her from the others as he rubbed gently at the spot.

          "It's not your fault. It was heavy, and I wasn't steady enough," she whispered meekly, hoping he wasn't angry with her. "I'm sorry."

          "Pfft," he scoffed. "Didn't expect y' t' hit it on your first try. Ain't nothin' t' apologize for." He gave her a meaningful look, smiling gently, and she relaxed. "Wanna try again?"

          He took the shop rag out of his pocket and folded it, wedging it beneath her bra strap. It would offer her a little protection until he could find something better for her.

          "That's a lot better," she said, bringing the rifle up again. It got easier for her as she went through a dozen or so shells, hitting more than half of the targets. She beamed at him when she was done, proud of herself. What made it even better was the fact she could see the pride he felt for her clearly on his handsome face.

          He stored the rifle back in the bag and then wrapped his arms around her from behind as they watched Sophia's intense concentration as she worked with her piece. Carol raised her hand to her mouth, awed by her daughter. "She's getting so good. It doesn't matter what you give her, she's almost always on the mark."

          "She's strong like 'er mama, and wily like 'er uncle Merle," he snorted at the last part.

          Carol's eyes sparkled as she turned them up to him. "And sweet like her dad?" she asked, grinning as she saw his ears turn red in embarrassment.

          "Wouldn't go that far."

"Oh, but I would," she teased, turning in his embrace to wrap her arms around his waist.

          "Hey, Dixon! This ain't the Sadie Hawkins dance, y'know," T-Dog chortled from his place in line.

          "Aww shut it, Dawg," he drawled, dropping his arms from around Carol. "You're just jealous my girls shoot better'n you!"

          Carl came running over to join Sophia as Rick started packing up to go back to the farm. The boy was rather proud of the progress he'd made with the .38 Daryl had given him, and he couldn't wait to brag to his friend.

          Once Daryl, Carol and the children were squeezed into the cab of the truck, Sophia tugged on his sleeve. "Dad? D'you think we might be able to go swimming in the pond when we get back?"

          "Swimmin'?"

          Carl turned his big blue eyes on the hunter. "Yeah! It's still warm enough."

          "Please?" they chimed.

          Carol laughed behind her hand. "You can't go by yourself," was her only objection.

          "C'mon, Dad, what else do you have to do today?" Sophia pleaded. "It's been so long since I've been able to swim. All those lessons Mom paid for … gone to waste. Please?"

          Daryl shot Carol a pained look. "An' jus' whatcha think you'll be swimmin' in? There ain't no way you're getting in that pond naked with Carl!"

          Sophia looked at him drolly. "Really?" she snarked. "I have some shorts and a tank I can wear, Dad. Seriously, though, you need to drag your mind up out of the gutter."

          Carol laughed so hard at the expression on his face, she snorted.

          Carl grinned. "I bet I could borrow a pair of shorts from Jimmy. He's so skinny I bet they'd fit."

          "Fine!" the redneck growled, seeing he wasn't going to win. "I guess we're goin' swimmin'."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl grimaced as Carol set her things down on the dock and dipped a toe into the water. After returning the rest of the group to the farm, it hadn't taken long for everyone to change. When Rick had discovered what they were going to be doing for the rest of the afternoon, he'd loaned Daryl a pair of cut off jean shorts Lori had found on the highway while searching through the cars. He felt ridiculous standing there wearing them along with a sleeveless t-shirt. Sophia gave a whoop as she and Carl ran past them and jumped into the pond.

          "Best idea ever!" she cried, splashing water at her best friend before swimming away with measured strokes to avoid Carl's retaliation.

          His hawk-like eyes followed her path. She might have had lessons, but he still worried. He stood vigilant at the end of the dock next to Carol and crossed his arms over his chest, his hands resting in his armpits. Carol shivered next to him. "Too cold?" he asked. The seasons were changing; he could feel it. Maybe it was too cold for them to swim. What if Sophia got sick?

          Carol shook her head. "No … just a bit nippy. We'll adjust once we get in, I'm sure." She reached for the hem of his shirt, surprised when he pushed her hand away, a panicked gleam in his eyes. "What's wrong, Pookie? Aren't you coming in?"

          "I … I can't let them see. They're kids. They don't need t' see that shit," he murmured lowly, ducking his head.

          She instantly understood. Her poor brave hunter still had issues with people seeing his scars. She let go of his shirt and whipped the tank she wore over her head to reveal the bikini top Maggie had loaned her. She turned her back on him, her own scars on display. Daryl's arms went around her from behind as he buried his face against her nape with a shudder. "Your scars are part of you, Daryl. They simply show how strong you are to have suffered so greatly … and survived." She leaned her head back against his shoulder and pressed her lips to his cheek. "You're so beautiful … every part of you," she whispered reverently.

          He held on tighter, overwhelmed with feelings he couldn't comprehend. It was so strange for him to be taking comfort from her when he was the one usually offering it to her. "I know it's stupid –"

          "No, it's not stupid," she protested, turning in his embrace and wrapping her arms about his neck. "You're afraid the kids will judge you? You should know them better than that by now. You see how they look up to you. Your scars won't ever change that."

          The children giggled as Daryl pressed his lips to Carol's and kissed her long and deep. "Ewww!" Carl groaned before Sophia splashed him, her words muffled by his outraged shriek.

          "I thought y' wanted t' swim, boy!" Daryl called, pulling away from Carol.

          Carol chuckled. "I think they're waiting for us." She looked over her shoulder, still smiling. "We could swim out to the platform if you'd like. Take in the sun while we still can."

          She wanted it to be his choice to take a chance. She didn't want him to think she was going to goad him into it. The water was cold, but not uncomfortable as it closed over her. She was glad she'd taken a quick leap instead of trying to ease herself in, almost like ripping off a band-aid. Her measured strokes swiftly carried her to the large wooden raft in the center of the pond, and she wasted no time climbing onto it. Sitting down, she wiped the water out of her face and leaned back on her hands, turning her face up to the bright afternoon sun.

          Daryl watched her, chewing nervously at the cuticle on his thumb. She looked so at ease with herself, sitting there on the raft, water droplets shining in her short hair. He remembered clearly how she hadn't wanted him to see her scars that night at the CDC, but it seemed now that he had, she wasn't afraid anymore. Why couldn't he do the same, he wondered. She viewed those scars littering his back and chest as badges of honor, a sign of strength that he'd endured his father's rage. He saw them as his weakness, his shame that he hadn't been strong enough to fight off Jackson Dixon and his abuse.

          His fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt as he stared down at his feet. He wasn't that kid anymore. Carol loved him for who he was. She didn't care about the evidence of his past, didn't think they detracted from who he was. Her love made him stronger. His eyes caught hers across the pond, and he held it as his self-doubt and recriminations fell away. Without another moment's hesitation, he lifted the shirt over his head and dove into the cool water, needing to be with her.

          He didn't see the troubled look Carl and Sophia shared as he cut smoothly through the water. It felt good to be outside in the bright sunlight to share something fun with his family. Carol squealed as he pulled himself onto the raft and shook the water from his shaggy hair, the droplets pelting her.

          Daryl dropped down next to her onto his back and laid his head on her lap, one of his rare genuine smiles curling his lips. Her fingers carded through his hair as she leaned over to kiss him. "Today is a  _good_  day," she sighed happily.

          "Yeah, an' we don't know how many o' those we're gonna get."

          "Aren't you just a ray of sunshine!" she laughed, tweaking his ribs. "And ticklish! Oh, I love it!"

          He squirmed away from her, unable to stop the laughter escaping him. "Oh yeah!?" He maneuvered himself to a sitting position and reached for her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand as he let his fingers dance along her sides.

          "No! Daryl, stop," she giggled, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

          His own chuckles died away as he looked down at the flush spreading over her chest, the rapid rise and fall of her breasts as they strained against her top, her lips parted and full, just begging to be kissed. Why deny himself, he thought. He brought his hand up, cupping her breast, his thumb brushing against her nipple and she gasped. His lips came down roughly on hers, his tongue invading the sweet hollow of her mouth, swallowing down her moan.

          A snort from their daughter pulled him out of his lusty wanderings. "Dad, are you and Mom gonna kiss all day, or are you gonna come swim with us?"

          Carol sucked in a deep breath and pressed her lips into a thin line, her face blushing scarlet. Daryl groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder.

          "C'mon, Dad, I wanna race!"

          "A'right, gimme a minute," he growled, swinging his head around to grin at her. "But y' better not cheat like Merle!" He was thinking a dip in the cold pond would help the problem in his pants. He rolled off the raft into the water and came up beside her to grip the side as Carl climbed up and sat beside Carol.

          The boy counted it off, and they were gone, her shorter limbs struggling to keep up with his longer strokes. It wasn't about winning to her. It was about sharing a moment with the only man who'd ever tried to give her parental love. It was what she'd always craved. A father who would be free with his time, a father who would protect and nurture her, a father who would  _love_  her. She was giggling and fighting for breath when she neared the shallows and stepped up onto the bank underneath the hanging branches of a willow tree.

          Sophia collapsed against the grass and rolled onto her back, staring up at the bright blue sky through the branches. "That was awesome!" she breathed.

          "Seems t' me those swimmin' lessons paid off. Least I ain't gotta worry about y' drownin'."

          "You're a good swimmer too, Dad. Did Merle teach you?"

          He nodded. "Yeah … long time ago."

          She sat up beside him as he stared off into the distance, lost in his thoughts. "Dad?" she asked softly. It still awed her that he accepted her so easily as his own.

          "Hmm?" He looked down at her, one eyebrow arched in askance.

          "You know I love you, right? And I love that you're my dad now. Sometimes your true family isn't always blood."

          His eyes softened as he looked down at her, and the next thing he knew he had an armful of his daughter. He could feel the burn behind his eyes as he held her tightly. How close he'd come to losing her weighed heavily upon him, and he vowed never to let her out of his sight again if at all possible. "Love y' too, baby girl," he choked out, his voice raspy and hoarse. He let her go and gave her a gentle shove back into the water. "C'mon! Let's see if yer ol' man can beat y' back t' th' raft."

"You're on!"

Daryl let her win.

 

*.*.*

 

          Rick dropped down to sit next to Daryl by the campfire where the hunter was sharpening his knife. "Man, what did you do to our kids today? One minute they're in the middle of a heated game of Uno and the next they're passed out."

          Daryl huffed. They'd stayed at the pond until it was time for Carol to come back and help Lori with dinner, all of them a little pink from the sun and exhausted from their day in the water. "Jus' lettin' 'em be kids for a change," he shrugged.

          "I appreciate it. I think they needed it."

          "I'm takin' 'em with me in th' mornin' when I go huntin'. Soph has already been trained up a little, but I figured it wouldn't hurt t' show Carl some things," he said, concentrating on his task.

          Rick stared at Daryl with new perspective. He'd been so angry when they'd first met, not allowing anyone aside from his family to get close to him. It was remarkable how much the archer was changing and adapting to sharing his life with the group. Given the chance, Rick knew he would be happy to call him 'friend'. "I think Carl would like that. He's already got some hero worship going for him."

          Daryl snorted. "Ain't no hero."

          "Sophia would beg to differ. You saved her, man. If that doesn't make you a hero, I don't know what does," he said.

          "More like she saved me.  She's a Dixon," he said as if that explained it all.

          Carol smiled as she listened to the exchange, nearly ready to dish up the hearty soup she'd made with some canned vegetables and a package of beef stew meat Maggie had offered from their freezer. Lori sat beside her, looking a little green. "Look … they're bonding," she whispered.

          Lori smiled, though it didn't meet her eyes. Shane had returned to camp, and Rick was still acting aloof towards him. She was glad to see Andrea was acting welcoming towards him. "It won't hurt him to start trusting Daryl. Lord knows that redneck has proven his worth. I hate to think I was so wrong about him."

          "Daryl is a very complicated man with a troubled past. It will take time for him to truly open up … if ever." She reached out and squeezed her friend's hand. "I have to say it means the world to me that you trust him with Carl. He won't let you down."

          "I think Shane is jealous of the time Carl spends with your family." Her eyes drifted over to where he sat with Andrea, chatting about their target practice earlier in the day.

          Carol nodded at the pair. "And you? Are you perhaps a little jealous of Andrea?"

          "What? No!" the brunette scoffed. "I'd be happy if his attention switched to her. She'd be good for him, wouldn't she? I wouldn't want him to get hurt." She smiled. "I'd just like for things to go back to how they were before the world ended. I want Shane and Rick to be friends again."

          "I'm glad you're trying so hard to work things out with Rick. And don't worry … things will blow over and he and Shane will be able to save their friendship. They're both good men, and I don't see this standing between them for the long haul."

          Lori passed Carol a stack of bowls, so she could start ladling out portions. "I hope so. Do you think we should wake the kids for dinner?"

          "No, let them sleep. They ate their weight in leftovers when we got back from the pond."

          Carol handed Lori a steaming bowl of the flavorful soup only to have it pushed back into her hands. Her friend clamped a hand over her mouth and ran for the perimeter of camp. Rick looked worriedly at Carol and started to rise, but she waved him off, hurrying to check on his ailing wife. She found her in the tall grass next to the fence, heaving pitifully.

          "Oh, honey …" she cooed sympathetically, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "What's wrong?"  _Please,_  she prayed,  _don't let it be what I think it is._

          Lori broke down, tears streaming over her ashen cheeks. "Nothing," she gasped, wiping her mouth on her sleeve.

          "I won't pry, but you know I'm here if you want to talk about it," Carol said, glancing over her shoulder to assure their privacy. Daryl lurked in the shadows beneath the great oak, but didn't approach. He was simply making sure there was no danger.

          Lori rested her head on Carol's shoulder and wept. "I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to hide it. Glenn knows. He brought a test back from the pharmacy run."

 _Oh, damn!_ "Oh, Lori, are you –"

          "Pregnant," she sobbed.

          Carol smoothed her hand over Lori's long locks. "You need to tell Rick. This isn't something you want to hide from your husband, Lori."

          "W-What if this b-baby isn't his?

          Carol groaned inwardly. "Well, it's not like you can run out for a paternity test. We're just going to have to wait and see, won't we?"

          "This is just going to make it worse."

          She gripped Lori's shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. "Stop it. Stop it right now, Lori Grimes. You can't think that way. How are you going to know how Rick will react if you don't tell him? He has a right to know."

          "I know he does," the woman bawled.

          "Whatever happens, you know we care for you. You're not going to have to face this alone."

          Lori swiped angrily at her tears. "I'm terrified, Carol. Even if he does accept this child, it's going to be in danger from the moment it's born. One cry could bring a herd down on us. And what happens if I can't provide for it? I don't want it to have to grow up in this nightmare!" she hissed.

          "You should have thought about that before you had unprotected sex," Carol said, deciding not to mince words.

          Lori reared away from her, stunned. "How could you say that?!"

          "Because I'm your friend and I'm not going to lie to you. You're looking at this baby as a mistake, when you should be looking at it as a beacon of hope. We need hope now more than anything, Lori. We're a strong group, and we're only going to get stronger … as long as we're together. This baby will have a multitude of aunts and uncles who will fight for it. Now suck it up."

          Lori gaped at her before she burst out laughing. "I'm worrying before I need to, right?"

          Carol laughed with her, but didn't release her from her embrace. "It's going to all work out."

          "God, I hope so."

          "Talk to your husband."

          "I will."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next time: All Caryl! Nothing but Caryl! Caryl goodness. Hope you enjoyed, my darlings! Please lemme know whatcha think!


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is pretty much nothing but smut :D so if that's not your thing you might want to skip it. Happy reading!

 

 

          Daryl's smoky narrowed gaze followed the women back to the campfire where he waited for Carol, handing her a bowl of soup as she sat down beside him. He wasn't going to have her going to bed hungry because she was too busy tending to her worthless friend. He wondered if he'd ever understand why she cared so much for the cop's wife. Lori's only known skill was nagging, in his opinion. She'd win the Olympic medal in that category, he was sure. "Y' wanna take this back t' our tent an' eat in peace?"

          Carol slowly shook her head. Lori had gone to her tent, skipping out on dinner because of her nausea. "No. I don't want to make it a habit of eating there. The last thing we need is ants where we sleep."

          He pointed his spoon in the direction of the Grimes tent. "What's her problem, anyway? Y' didn't use enough fabric softener on 'er drawers?" he whispered quietly.

          She clamped her lips down over her spoon and tried not to choke on the laughter welling up inside her. "No, nothing like that," she replied when she was able to find her voice.

          Carol ate faster than usual, finding herself famished from the events of the day. She really just wanted to finish up and return to their tent where she could lie down with Daryl and rest. And perhaps unburden herself a little. It was hard keeping all of Lori's secrets sometimes. Dumping their bowls in the dishwater set aside for them to do in the morning, she followed Daryl. She dropped her jacket next to the door, along with her belt and weapons – which Rick had somehow forgotten to retrieve from her to return to the gun bag – and sat down heavily on their bedroll to remove her boots. Daryl was much faster, lying down beside her, having already stripped and put on a pair of cotton sleeping pants.

          "Woman's been hacking up 'er stomach for a week now. She got some kinda bug or somethin'?" he asked, his eyes roaming over her appreciatively as she changed for bed. He held his arms open to her, and she fell into them eagerly, a soft sigh escaping her as she brought her head to rest on his bare chest.

          "Not … sick, per se," she hedged. "At least she's not contagious."

          "Then why's she been throwin' … aw, hell! She's pregnant, ain't she?"

          Carol ducked her head away from his searching gaze. It didn't sit well with her to betray a confidence, but she refused to lie to him. "You can't tell anyone, Daryl. She hasn't even told Rick yet. Glenn's the only one who knows because he brought her the test from that last pharmacy run."

          He snorted. "Then it won't be long before everybody knows. Y' know how that boy likes t' gossip. Why ain't she told Rick? Or should it be Shane she shares th' news with?"

          "Don't be mean, Pookie."

          "Ain't being mean, I'm statin' a fact." He rolled them over, grinning as he nuzzled his nose alongside hers. "'Sides … I ain't gotta be nice t' nobody but you."

          Carol wrapped her arms about his shoulders, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm worried. What if this drives a deeper wedge between her and her husband?"

          "Mhmm," he hummed, only half paying attention to what she was saying as he peppered her jaw with nipping kisses. "Why would y' care about that?"

          Already, he could feel her relaxing, her curves melding to his harsher lines. "Not so much what it will do to their personal relationship … I mean, I don't want to see them have any more difficulties … but rather what this will mean for all of us … as a group." She gasped as his lips trailed over her collarbone to dip into the valley between her breasts. "Jesus, Daryl! I'm trying to have a conversation with you!" She tried to sound stern, but couldn't quite pull it off, the smile blooming on her lips betraying her.

          "I'm listenin', ain't I?" he huffed, pulling at the neckline of her tank with his teeth.

          "Are you?"

          Daryl rolled over onto his side and propped his head on his hand. "Of course, woman. When ain't I listenin' t' y'? Y' were sayin' y' was worried about how Rick and Lori's love triangle bullshit was gonna affect th' group."

          "Oh," she murmured, blushing. "I thought you were just trying to distract me."

          "I was," he huffed, waggling his brows.

          "Daryl!"

          His arm snaked around her waist and drew her in closer. "Aw, c'mon … y' gotta admit it's more fun than talkin' about them three. So, what? The worst case, their bullshit gets us kicked off th' farm. Don't matter. I'll find somewhere better for us …  _us_ , Carol. You, me an' Soph. Best case, they pull their heads outta their asses, learn t' get along, an' Hershel lets us stay through th' winter."

          Carol frowned as another million troublesome thoughts wound through her head. "Why do you always make everything seem so simple?"

          He traced a finger over her collarbone, watching her from beneath his heavy lids as she shivered and inched a bit closer, her arm going about his waist now. She was growing more and more comfortable with their petting without even realizing it. Every night, he asked for only one thing … a kiss, and every night – despite Sophia laying just on Carol's other side – he kissed her breathless. Just a kiss, but it was slowly wearing down her defenses.

          "My uncle used t' tell me there ain't no use beatin' yourself up about shit y' can't change. Time better spent would be t' focus on things y' can. Shane, Lori an' Rick gotta work that shit out for themselves, Carol. Jus' keep bein' a friend t' her, but don't take all th' weight of it on your own shoulders."

          Carol sighed and opened herself up to him both physically and emotionally as his knee wedged between her thighs. He raised her leg higher to curl over his hip, leaving her flush with his body, and she felt not a hint of fear or anxiety, nor any pressure to do anything she wasn't willing to do. Only a deep-seated contentment and the familiar knowledge of being loved by the man in her arms. How far would he take their chaste loving if she let him?

          She carded her fingers through his hair, her nails scraping that tender spot just behind his left ear. Oh, how she loved to watch his eyes darken with desire for her. He was so different from the angry man she'd met months ago … before he'd become  _hers_. "Your uncle sounds like a very smart man, much like you."

          "Ain't smart," he argued, ducking his head to press a kiss to her temple. "Never claimed t' be."

          "Daryl …" she whispered, her chest swelling with a warmth she was coming to associate solely with him. "You'll always be the finest man I've ever known."

          He blinked rapidly, at a loss for what to say. She was always taking him by surprise, and though it helped chase away a smattering of his doubts, it was still hard for him to believe she could see him in such a way. Those compliments also had a tendency to super glue his tongue to the roof of his mouth, making him look like an idiot. And then came the blush.  _Fuck this!_  he growled inwardly, burying his face against her shoulder.

          Instead of listening to the echoes of his father's voice in his head, he concentrated on how good she felt wrapped around him, how  _right_ she felt in his arms. Only _she_ could drive away his ghosts and leave him whole. With her, instead of flinching away from her touch, he  _craved_  it. So much. "If y' want …" He cleared his throat, not liking the hesitation he heard there. He could tell Carol anything without having her judge him. "If y' want, I can take your mind off your troubles for a little while?"

          Carol stared at him for a long moment, and he could practically hear the gears grinding in her mind, weighing every option and deciding if she wanted to take a chance. His gaze went to her mouth where she bit that lip he loved so much. "What if Sophia wakes in the middle of the night and needs us?"

          He shook his head and sucked in a deep breath to calm his raging heartbeat.  _Patience, Dixon. Y' have t' be patient with her._  "Sophia knows not to roam th' camp at night. She'll wake Rick or Lori if she needs somethin'." He was so careful with her. By now he was well acquainted with what touch soothed her. A kiss to the corner of her mouth, a brush of his fingers along her nape, and a gentle squeeze to her hip helped the tension flow easily from her. Gentle reassuring touches which banished her demons and the bad memories of how it had been.

          She whimpered softly as his hand mapped a feather light touch over her side, over the gentle curve of her hip to palm her ass, pulling her closer to press firmly against his growing erection.

          "You're in control, woman," he growled, a deep rumble in his chest which shot heat directly to her core. His tongue pressed into the pulse point beneath her jaw as she nodded. But that wasn't good enough. As with everything, he wouldn't take her for granted. Only her words would do for him. "All y' have t' do is tell me t' stop. Y' know me, Carol. Tell me whatcha want."

          Her gaze locked with his as he pulled on her tank with his teeth once again, and she forgot to breathe. "Yes," she gasped. She wouldn't …  _couldn't_  … look away as she whipped the shirt over her head, leaving her torso bared to his gaze. She could feel the tension in his solid frame, the flexing of his muscles beneath his skin as he tried to rein in his emotions … and she loved him all the more for his restraint.

          Daryl's touch was tender, gentle, as his lips closed around one turgid nipple, pressing it to the roof of his mouth when he really wanted to bite. His fingers worked the other in a steady brushing motion instead of pinching. If she only knew how difficult it was to quell his more feral side, she wouldn't allow him within ten feet of her. He played her flesh like a fine-tuned instrument, and for the first time, he was glad they'd been taking it so slowly. It had given him time to learn her body and she his … not that she'd touched him below the waist so far, more's the pity. Which was why he continued with slow touches and light kisses as he moved down over her ribs and the flat plane of her belly.

          Those same muscles rippled in her abdomen as he kissed along the waistband of her shorts. "Wh-What are you doing?" she squeaked, brushing back the hair which hung over his brow.

          He growled again, scenting her arousal. His mouth watered, wondering if she'd be just as sweet on his tongue as she'd been on his fingers. He pulled on her shorts with his teeth before hooking his fingers in them and dragging them slowly down her legs. "Jus' kissin', baby. Don't it feel good?"

          Carol nodded, unable to take her eyes off of him as he nipped at the tender inside of her knee. He'd been rather delighted to find that little hotspot. "It always feels good when you touch me," she panted as those sinfully soft lips of his traveled further up on his way back to his former position between her legs. She moaned deeply when his tongue darted out to mark a spot on her inner thigh before he sucked her flesh into his mouth, branding her with lips, teeth and tongue.

          "Tell me why," he murmured against her skin. The gravel in his voice sent a new wave of pure sensation racing through her body, and he knew it.

          "B-Because you love me," she answered instantly. It was a new game for him, one to set her at ease and make her see the difference of how it had been compared to how it should be. His hot breath ghosted over the navy lace covering her sex and she could have wept.

          He'd never done this for her before, having to be careful of his stitches. Really, she hadn't dreamed he would do it now that they'd been removed. Ed had thought it was disgusting and wouldn't even consider it, thinking only of his own pleasure. She forced herself to relax. He'd left her lacy drawers in place. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking on her part.

          "Tell me, baby," he groaned, burying his face against her.

 _What? What did he want to know?_ How was she supposed to think when he was doing such sinfully delightful things with his mouth? "Um …"  _Come on, Carol …you know this!_   "Because this is how it feels to be touched by a man who loves me."  _Did I get that right? Ungh!_

          Oh, how she loved to see him smile like that as he lifted his gaze to hers and murmured, "Good girl." He pulled her hands free of his hair where they yearned to linger and kissed the faint tracery of veins on each of her wrists. He watched her carefully as he released her hands and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her last remaining article of clothing. He drew them slowly down her legs, and though she didn't try to stop him, he could feel her trembling. "It's ok … you're ok. Jus' relax, an' lemme taste y'."

          Daryl remained still, crouched there at her feet, waiting as she fought with her indecision. He didn't make a move to discard his sleeping pants, and she felt some of the tension, paralyzing her, drain away. "No one's ever … I haven't …" she trailed away, averting her gaze as her pearly teeth clamped down on her lip.

          "Never?" he asked. How selfish had her bastard husband really been?  _Never?_  "Not even once?"

          His woman blushed to the roots of her hair as she shook her head. It gave him a small measure of pride to know he'd be the first. "You don't have t-to, Daryl."

          He felt his cock twitch, and bit down hard on his lip.  _Down boy! This ain't about you!_  He traced his nails over her legs in a slow nonsensical pattern as he inched his way up her body to rest his chin against her belly. "I know I don't  _have_  to … I  _want_ to." He pressed a kiss just below her navel before raising his gaze to lock with hers again. "Can I, Carol? Will y' let me?"

          She stared down at him with an unreadable expression on her face, unable to believe he wanted this so badly. She'd always been made to feel dirty for even suggesting a thing like this to Ed, yet Daryl acted … eager. As if he really wanted to do it, and how could she deny him anything? "Yes …" she breathed, her hand rising to cradle his cheek.

          He smiled wickedly at her and turned his lips into her palm, pressing a kiss there before lowering his head. Daryl shifted, grinding his hips into the sleeping bag beneath him to relieve some of the ache building in his groin. Just her scent had him throbbing painfully, the thin thread of control he maintained close to unraveling.

          He ran a lone finger along her slit as he drew her right leg over his shoulder and wrapped an arm around her thigh to hold her in place. He followed it with his tongue and felt her tense. "Shh … jus' relax, woman. I ain't gonna hurt y'."

          Carol whimpered and nodded fervently, unused to so many new sensations. Her brain was sending out pleasure signals at an alarming rate, but she just couldn't reconcile them with everything which had been beaten into her for so long.

          Daryl's long fingers parted her gently, and he found he couldn't hold back. He lapped at her eagerly, tracing his tongue from her entrance to where her little bundle of nerves peeked from beneath her hood. She tasted like the sweetest sin and felt like heaven against his lips. Finally, he felt her begin to relax, and she squirmed beneath him, soft breathy little moans escaping her parted lips. He'd never wanted to do this with any of his few partners from the past. His own pleasure had always been first and foremost in his mind. He wasn't even sure he'd know how, but god knew he'd had to listen to Merle talk endlessly about his own sexcapades. Having to listen, apparently, he'd picked up a thing or two.

          His woman was so gloriously wet, unable to hide her desire even if she'd wanted to. His fingers were coated with her moisture, making it easy to slip past the tight ring of muscle at her entrance. Her inner walls clutched at him desperately, and he groaned, the vibration of sound against her folds drawing a long keening wail from her as her back arched off their makeshift bed. But he didn't stop. Nothing would deter him aside from her spoken command for him to cease. He began a gentle thrust with his fingers, curling them until he found what he was looking for, that one spot which had her writhing in abandon, seeking an end to the pleasurable torture he'd created within her. His lips closed over her clit, sucking gently as he moved in her. Her thighs trembled, her walls fluttered, and her fingers twisted in his hair, almost afraid he'd leave her before she was able to find her bliss.

          Daryl was sure the entire camp could hear her cries as she tumbled over the edge and flooded his fingers with new warmth. His tongue traced a wet path back to her entrance as he removed his fingers, lapping up everything she had to give, prolonging her climax until she lay still and panting. A smug smile curled his lips as he moved up to her side and drew her trembling form into his arms, his cock twitching against her hip. He cleaned every drop of her from his fingers, savoring her essence and then wiping them on his pants.

          Carol clung to him tightly, nestled into his side as she wrestled to bring her breathing back under her control. He couldn't ever remember being so satisfied when he hadn't even secured his own release. He'd never thought pleasing a woman could make him feel so good about himself. "Y' ok?" he whispered, pressing his lips to her brow.

          "That was one of the most amazing experiences of my life," she breathed, tracing little patterns along his belly. It was a nervous habit of hers, and it was usually late at night when she wanted to tell him something he wasn't going to like.

          "Yeah?"

          She nodded, not quite able to meet his eyes.

          "Then what's wrong?" he asked, watching her closely.

          Her fingers drifted lower and toyed with the drawstring on his pants as her gaze lifted to meet his. "Nothing's wrong, Daryl. I just … I was wondering … could we try?"

          Daryl groaned as her small hand cupped him through his pants. Was she serious? He'd be willing to try anything she wanted, as long as she was certain. He wasn't going to do anything she wasn't ready for. "Whatcha wanna try, woman?" he slurred in a lust filled haze as he flopped onto his back against the pillows and reached for her hand to still her movements. She still looked mighty unsure. "Y' know I'll do anythin' y' ask o' me."

          Carol blushed and gnawed on her lip, though she didn't know why. There wasn't a place on her body with which he wasn't familiar. It was that last step, that last act to fully cement their physical relationship which had her hesitant. It had only ever brought her pain before, and if she crossed that line and couldn't go through with it, she knew he'd blame himself, see it as a failure. It could break them, but she had to know.

          She brought her lips to his as his thumb continued to brush lightly over her palm. Even that small gesture caused the low embers burning in her core to roar back to life. "I want to try," she said again as her lips parted. "I want to know what it feels like to have you inside me."

          Daryl's breathing picked up as he looked into her eyes, searching for any doubts which might still be plaguing her. "Y' sure, woman?" he croaked in a raspy whisper, not wanting to get his hopes up and let his excitement shatter his control.

          Her fingers pulled on the drawstring, releasing the knot. "I need to know, Daryl, but that's not the only reason. I want to share myself with you. I don't want to hold this part of me back from you any longer." Daryl studied her until she became uncomfortable beneath his intense scrutiny and she had to look away. "Unless you don't –"

          "'Course I want to!" he chuckled, dragging her further onto his chest. "But this ain't about me, Carol.  _You're_  the one who needs to decide. I'm here for  _you_ , not for what y' can give me or do for me. You taught me that."

          Carol straddled his waist and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in the crook of his neck as his hands mapped her back, doing his best to soothe her. Until she kissed him again and he jerked back to life. He gave her free reign to do what she wanted, touch him however she desired, despite the throbbing in his groin. He needed this to be everything she'd been denied before, and he was determined to give it to her.

          He very nearly lost it when she dragged her nails over his chest and claimed a flat male nipple with her teeth, and she merely grinned at the growls rising up in his chest. His fingers dug into her hips, flexing and releasing, barely having the presence of mind not to leave bruises. That didn't last long, however, as she made her way down his body, tracing each of the scars on his torso with her lips. He groaned when she nuzzled at his navel, following his happy trail with little nipping bites all the way to his waistband. God, he didn't know how much longer he'd be able to stand her gentle exploration.

          Carol only hesitated for a moment before she hooked her thumbs in the soft cotton of his pants and dragged them over his hips. She was trying so hard to be brave, but he could see the fear in her eyes as she returned to her previous position and met her bare flesh with his. He sat up, his arms coming around her, his nails leaving little red trails over her back in an attempt to soothe her.

          "Y' wanna stop? If y' need t' stop, we can," he murmured selflessly.

          "No! I just need to go slow." She cradled his face in her palms, bringing his lips back to hers, the fire burning in her belly begging to be quenched. She couldn't believe his patience, his tenderness, or his willingness to follow her lead, but she'd never been more grateful or felt more loved. This was how it should be between two people who loved each other. "Touch me, Daryl. Show me."

          He played her flesh with the utmost care, taking advantage of every hot spot he'd found in the previous days, using them to bring her the most pleasure until she was writhing on his lap. Lips, teeth and tongue left no part of her untouched until she was begging. Only then did he roll her onto her back. His jaw clenched with the control he was exerting, but he remained immobile above her, watching her carefully.

          "Daryl …" she whined, arching into him. "Please …"

          She was slippery with desire as his cock slid through her folds, and he prayed he'd last more than two minutes. He'd never wanted a woman as he did Carol. He pushed slowly into her, biting his lip until he was in danger of breaking the skin, but he was determined to be gentle with her. She tensed, and he cursed inwardly, fearing he'd hurt her. "Ok? Y' got t' talk t' me, woman," he growled lowly.

          Her fingers kneaded nervously at his shoulders, but she nodded, urging him to fill her. "I'm ok … don't stop."

          Daryl traced his fingers along the outside of her thigh to her knee and pulled her leg up to curl over his hip, giving him a better angle. He slid in smoothly, seating himself deeply within her clasping warmth until his body was flush with hers. "Fuckkkkk!" he groaned, his lids slamming shut from the intense pleasure of being inside her.

          When he was finally able to open his eyes, her smile was radiant. "It didn't hurt," she whispered, awestruck with relief.

          His brows knit in frustration. "Y' thought it would hurt, and still y' let me do this?! Carol, I –"

          He lost his train of thought as she lifted her hips and he sank a little deeper. But now her fear was no more, and she was determined to get what she wanted. "Move, Daryl. Don't hold back … don't stop," she commanded gently as she arched into him once more.

          Daryl had never been more willing to obey a direct order.  He set a slow pace, giving her time to adjust to the feel of him sliding in and out of her.  It was an exercise in torture when he wanted to give in to the pleasure and let that feral side of him go.  Every thrust of his hips brought him closer to the edge, her little gasps and whimpers urging him on.  _Faster … Harder … Deeper,_ she begged, letting go of her own inhibitions, and he felt her break apart, her walls grasping and pulling at him in a viselike grip.  He fell with her, pouring himself into her, his head dropping to her shoulder as he wrapped her even more tightly in his arms, almost afraid to let her go lest she be a dream to leave him at first light.

          Carol's fingers toyed with the hair at his nape, fighting to rein in her breathing. Her other arm held him just as tightly until he rolled to his side and dragged her to lay over his chest, unwilling to release her. She'd never experienced anything close to what she'd found in his arms, and she couldn't hold back a little giggle.

          "That bad, huh?" he grumbled, giving her hip a little pinch.

          Carol lifted her head and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Thank you, Pookie," she grinned. It faded away and her expression became serious. "I didn't know it could be like that."

          "I didn't either," he admitted. "I mean I've had sex before … jus' ain't never made love 'til now."

          "I'm not afraid anymore."

          "Y' don't have t' be afraid with me …  _ever_."

          Carol laid her head on his chest and let the steady rhythm of his heart lull her towards sleep. "I know."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next time: Glenn comes clean about what he's been hiding from the group.


	38. Chapter 38

 

          It was still early morning when Daryl crossed the field, Carl and Sophia on either side, each with a brace of rabbits. It would be enough to feed them for breakfast and still provide enough for a hearty stew for their dinner if he could convince Carol to make it. He had to fight to keep the smile from his face as he remembered last night and their passionate joining. It meant more than he could say that she'd allowed him to help her get over the last of her fears. Ed had scarred her so deeply … soul deep. Much as Jackson had done to him. Now, he could only hope Carol could continue to heal and put the bastard behind her for good. His woman had suffered enough. She deserved to be happy.

          He waved to her as she watched them approach, and she beamed that special smile she always reserved just for him. His heart swelled with love as she spoke a few words to Lori and ran out to meet them. He held his arms open to her and she gave him a warm hug before turning to the children and greeting them. "Wow, you must have taken them out before sun up if you're already back."

          "That's the best time, Mom. Look!" Sophia held up the rope holding two rabbits. "I got two all by myself. So did Carl. Dad got three, though."

          Carl nodded sagely. "That's because he's the best hunter around these parts. Even Otis said so after that last buck Daryl bagged."

          Daryl glared at the boy. It wasn't good to mention things which could rile Carol up. So what if he'd slipped out and gone hunting before Hershel had wanted him to? They needed to eat. Stiches or no.

          Carol chuckled and let Daryl tuck her into his side for the walk back. "Seems like you have quite the following, O mighty hunter."

          " _Stahp_ ," he said, feeling his ears go red under their praise. "Somebody's gotta keep y'all fed." He pulled Carol closer and leaned down so only she could hear. "Y' feelin' ok this mornin'?"

          "I'm wonderful," she breathed, leaning up to kiss his scruffy cheek. "And so are you."

          Sophia giggled. "Y'all are ridiculous," she said, shaking her head. "But cute. Mama, want to watch us clean the rabbits? Dad said he was going to show us how. And then he's going to teach us how to properly tan the hides and use them to make useful stuff."

          "No, baby. I need to get breakfast going. Lori's not feeling that great this morning."

          "I'll just bet she isn't," Daryl said snidely. Carol slapped his chest gently in admonishment and left him and the children to carry out their task.

          It wasn't long before Sophia brought the first two rabbits to her to put on the spit over the fire. Rick had sent his wife back to their tent after she'd lost her stomach more than once. He too looked rather green around the gills, and she could only wonder if her friend had shared the news of their impending arrival with him. When Shane joined the rest of them for coffee and Rick began shooting daggers at him, her suspicions were confirmed. Oh, those two had a long way to go if they were going to salvage their friendship. Her mouth dropped open as Andrea crawled out of Shane's tent and made her way over to Carol with her mug.

          The blonde grinned and filled her cup. "So, how'd you sleep, Carol?" she asked, sitting in the vacant camp chair next to her. "There was an awful lot of noise coming from that direction last night. Racoons, maybe?"

          She felt her cheeks heat under Andrea's scrutinizing gaze. "Yeah, that must've been it," she mumbled. "Or maybe it was just an echo from your own tent."

          Andrea chuckled and sipped the strong dark brew.

          "Getting cozy with the good deputy?" Carol asked, peeking over at her discreetly.

          "He's nice," she stated simply. "And he's going through a rough time right now. Rick will barely say two words to him, Lori is pretending he doesn't exist, and Carl very rarely leaves Daryl's side nowadays. He doesn't know if he should leave or try to smooth things over."

          "Leave? No! He pulled this group together, Andrea. He has every right to be here," Carol protested, basting the rabbits with a paste of seasonings and margarine from her supplies. "We need to stick together."

          "That's what I've been trying to tell him." She leaned forward, bracing her forearms on her knees as she looked down into her mug. "I kissed him."

          Well, that wasn't surprising, seeing as how they'd been chatting like old friends the night before. "Did you?"

          The blonde nodded. "Yeah, but I made it quite clear to him I wasn't going to be his rebound girl. New rules for a new world. I told him I'd be his friend, but he was going to have to show me he was over Lori before I let it go any farther. For now, we're just friends."

          Andrea was too smart to let a man walk all over her, so Carol merely smiled. "I have every faith he'll come around sooner or later."

          "Me too. I think I'm going to grab my stuff and see if Maggie will let me use their shower," she said, climbing to her feet.

          Carol watched her go and then waved up at T-Dog atop the RV taking his shift at watch. Camp was quiet with Daryl distracting the kids at the edge of the field, but she couldn't help but let her gaze drift over each of their party. Dale was tense and kept giving Glenn an undecipherable look, and the boy seemed uncomfortable in his own skin as his gaze flickered between his mentor and Maggie where she stood glaring at him from the porch of the old farmhouse. Something was definitely going on.

          She didn't have time to worry about it, however. It was her duty to make sure the hungry members of their group had something to eat that morning. It made her feel useful, like she had a valuable skill to provide them … even if it was only cooking. She was just pulling the rabbits off the spit with Dale's help when Daryl dropped a bucket full of their freshly skinned kill at her feet and then lowered himself into a camp chair. Sophia was quick to pour him a cup of coffee before she and Carl sat down next to him on a log.

          Carol quickly cut and plated the meat with some eggs she'd scrambled – thanks to Patricia's generosity – and began calling everyone to breakfast.

          "So, what are we going to do today, Dad," Sophia asked around a mouthful of seared rabbit.

          "Ain't y' got chores to help y' mama with?"

          Shane pointed at the kids with his fork, his plate balanced on his lap. "Have you thought of putting them on watch duty? They both got sharp eyes and are skilled with those bows. I think it would do them some good to have a little more responsibility. Morning or afternoon watch would be perfect for them. What d'you think, Dixon?"

          Sophia and Carl shared a wide-eyed look, surprised at Shane's nod at their skills. Daryl continued to eat. "I got every faith they could do it, but it ain't my call." He jerked his chin in Rick's direction. "Need t' talk t' Rick about that."

          Shane flinched. "Thought I'd run it by you since it's  _your_  kid and all."

          Rick ignored Shane and rubbed both hands over his face as he turned to meet Daryl's wary gaze. "I don't see how it would hurt to have them on watch. They could do it together … couple hours in the afternoon."

          "Really?" Carl said, his excitement palpable. "You mean it, Dad?"

          Their leader smiled at the children. "Sure, why not?"

          Sophia felt her chest swell with pride with this new task to add to her list of chores. She felt the grown-ups were finally taking them seriously, and she wouldn't do anything to let her dad down. Neither would Carl. Besides, she'd been on watch before with Daryl, and knew how to handle herself.

          Daryl tugged playfully on a strawberry blonde lock hanging next to her cheek. "Still gotta make sure your other chores are done first, Soph. They're important too."

          "I will, Daddy." To prove she was serious, she gathered up empty plates from those who'd finished eating and carried them to the washtub to begin washing their morning dishes. Carl, not wanting to look bad, grabbed up a clean hand towel to dry and put them away.

          Daryl leaned back in his chair to let his food settle. "Rick, I'm gonna take Carol an' th' kids out into th' field later an' start trainin' 'em in some hand t' hand. Guns'll only get 'em so far. They need t' know more about how t' take a geek down with only their knives."

          "That's good thinking, Daryl. Would you mind if some of us joined you?" Rick asked, more than on board with this new idea.

          "Yeah, I ain't gotta problem with that.":

          Carol lowered her fork to her empty plate and frowned at Glenn. "Glenn, honey … you barely touched your food. Is something wrong?"

          The boy blushed, his ears turning red as he stared down at his feet. "Um …"

          "Glenn …" Dale said, giving him a pointed look.

          Carol felt a prickle of unease raise the fine hairs along her nape.

          Daryl narrowed his eyes. "What's up with you, Short Round? Maggie givin' y' th' cold shoulder or somethin'?"

          He looked like a deer caught in headlights.

          "Tell them," Dale urged. "If you don't, I will."

          Glenn went from fiery red to a rather sickly green as he felt the eyes of the group upon him. "There'swalkersinthebarn!" he blurted out in one long burst of sound.

          Daryl gaped at him.

          Rick looked sick.

          Carol wanted to drag the kids off and zip them into the tent where she could guard over them.

          And Shane slowly levered himself out of his chair, holding a hand over his wound which was still tender. "The fuck you just say?" he asked. He must have heard him wrong.

          Glenn crossed his arm over his chest as he chewed nervously on his thumb. "There's walkers … in the barn. I was going to meet Maggie there the other night and –"

          "Just happened to find out?" Rick asked, squinting at the boy, his hands on his hips. "And you're just now deciding to tell us? You should have come to us with this  _immediately!_ "

          "And you  _knew_?" Shane shouted accusingly at Dale. "He told you and then y'all kept it from the rest of us?"

          "I already talked to Hershel," the old man responded, though he didn't look at all guilty about keeping it from them. "I figured one more day wouldn't hurt."

          Daryl shook his head and reached for his crossbow. "Woman, get t' th' tent an' put your damn belt on … now!" He turned to Rick as she hurried to obey. He wasn't taking any chances with her safety. If she needed her gun, by damn she was going to have it on her. "Y' want me t' go check this out? Post a guard? What?"

          Rick nodded. "Yeah … yeah, that would be best. We don't need them getting out and having them hurt one of the kids. Just stand watch for now, though, until I can talk to Hershel myself."

          Dale shook his head. "You'll be wasting your breath. He doesn't see them as monsters, Rick, but as flesh and blood people who are just sick. He believes they can be cured. It's why he's housing them in the barn. He's keeping them there until the scientists can come up with a cure."

          Shane raked his hand through his hair as Andrea reappeared at his side with his gun belt, his 9mm and an extra cartridge. Her own gun was already tucked into her waistband. "This is insane, Rick. You know it is," he hissed as he fastened his belt around his waist with a wince of pain.

          Glenn rubbed at the knot of stress at his nape. "His wife and stepson … his friends, neighbors … they're in that barn."

          "We can't just go out there shooting up the place," Rick said, at a loss as to what to do as opposed to what he wanted to do. "I need to talk to him, explain –"

          "Yeah 'cause that's worked out really well so far," the deputy spat.

          Rick shot him a look of disgust and held up a hand, calling for calm. "I'll handle this."

 

*.*.*

 

          "Glenn said there's a lumber supply warehouse in town. We could take both the trucks and make a run … reinforce along here …"

          Rick and Daryl were making a sweep around the perimeter of the barn, checking for weak spots before Rick brought his concerns to Hershel. Daryl was doing everything in his power not to totally lose his shit. To think his girls had been in danger this entire time, and they'd been clueless. Who the hell kept walkers in their barn? Shane had been right … it was batshit crazy! His anxiety, his worry for their safety, had that all too familiar itch humming beneath his skin, and he'd already chewed the inside of his lip bloody.

          One of the walkers, having scented them, snarled against the planking as they passed. Daryl brought the crossbow up, ready should it find a way through. When it couldn't, he still didn't lower his weapon as he whirled on Rick. "Man, th' fuck are we doin'? We should be findin' a way up into that hayloft an' pickin' those suckers off one by one."

          "You think I don't know that?" Rick sighed. "But we are  _guests_  here, Daryl. We go in there shooting the place up and Hershel is going to make sure we leave. We … we  _need_  to stay here. And I need you to be with me on that. I can't trust Shane not to say to hell with it and start a riot."

          Daryl grunted, shaking his head. "Y'all  _need_  t' get over this shit between y'. He's your second in command, Rick," he sneered, "an' your communication skills suck! We ain't never gonna get nowhere with you two fightin' all th' damn time."

          "I can't  _trust_  him, Daryl. Not like I can trust you. He shoots down every plan, every strategy I make. Not to mention him and …"

          Daryl ducked his head and chewed on his lip. Rick trusted him? That was a first, and he didn't know how to feel about it. Did he even want the man's trust? His acceptance? He was beginning to wonder if he was getting in too deep with these people. "I don't really give a fuck about your personal issues, Rick. I'm here for Carol an' Sophia. They trust y' t' lead us. Not Shane. So, I'm with y' on whatever y' decide. But th' bickerin' … y' doubtin' your leadership abilities. That shit's gotta stop, man. Y' gotta work this out with him." He turned his fiery gaze on him. "Either lead, or fall back in line. That's your choices. But jus' so we're clear … Shane ain't no leader."

          "Why don't you think so?" Rick asked curiously. He'd never had Daryl volunteer so much at once, and frankly he was taken aback by his blunt observations, yet pleased his little family were loyal to him.

          "Because he's always gonna take th' easy path, th' one without any risks. Any good leader knows y' gotta take chances."

          Daryl lengthened his stride and left Rick behind, needing to get a hold of himself if he were to keep his head. His Dixon temper didn't need to come into play. As soon as people started panicking, he'd be caught in the middle of it, and he had Carol and Sophia to think of. It didn't take long for both of them to round to the front of the building where they'd left Shane and Andrea.

          "We good?" he asked Andrea, dropping to his haunches between the pair.

          Andrea nodded. "I found a way in, and –"

          "What?! Still got that death wish, Blondie?"

          She rolled her eyes. "I found a way up into the loft. Walkers can't climb ladders. We found that out when we went to Atlanta. Anyway, from what I could see, I'm guessing we have a little more than a dozen in there."

          The wooden double doors creaked, rotted fingers poking through the slats as the walkers inside reached for their prey. Shane inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring in anger as he rested his hand over his service piece. "I don't like this … not a bit. We need to set up a watch. I'd say two at a time. Rick? Whatcha think, man?"

          The former friends refused to look at one another, but at least they were  _trying_  to come up with a plan. Before he could answer, Hershel came stalking down the path, and they could all see he was incensed. "What are you all doing out here? Get away from the barn!" he called, more than a little red in the face from his anger.

          Rick held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "Hershel, I was just coming to talk to you about that."

          "I don't care. I've asked you to keep your people in their designated areas. This is  _my_  land and you'll follow my rules if you want to stay," he retorted, pointing a finger at Rick.

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol dug through Daryl's hunting sack Sophia had dragged with them atop the RV and found his field glasses, using them to watch the drama unfolding at the barn. She thought the top of the Winnebago would be the safest place for the children until the issue could be resolved. "Damnit, I wish I could hear what they were saying."

          "I'm sure Dad will tell us when he comes back, Mama. What do you see? I can't make out anything from here," Sophia complained. She smiled at Carl as he handed her the binoculars Dale kept up there for watch.

          Carol frowned. "Hershel's out there now and he's arguing with Rick. Shane looks like he's about to pass out, and Andrea is hovering near him."

          "What about Daryl?" Carl asked since he couldn't see what was going on now.

          Sophia grinned. "He looks like he's watching everyone else to make sure he can jump in if a fight breaks out. And he doesn't look happy about it."

          "He's trying, Sophia. You know this isn't easy for him, baby."

          "Oh, shit!" the girl cried, using the binoculars to scan more than what was going down at the barn. "Mama, look! What the hell are they doing?"

          "Sophia! Language," Carol admonished as she swung the field glasses in the direction her daughter was pointing. "Oh, shit!"

          Carl would have giggled at the pair if Sophia hadn't thrust the binoculars at him, so he could see too. The boy paled. "Should we go get my mom and make her come up here with us?"

          Carol groaned. "Not just yet. It's best to let her sleep for now … until we know if we're in danger."

 

*.*.*

 

          Merle had always loved old black and white episodes of the Twilight Zone. Daryl felt as if he'd been thrust right into a bad remake.  _Fuckin' hell!_  He took a battle-ready stance as Otis and Jimmy came around the side of the barn, two walkers on leads before them, the poles straining under the weight.

          "Oh, hell no!" Shane cried, pulling his weapon and pointing it at them. "Rick, what the hell, man?"

          "Shane, no!" Rick demanded, not at all sure if his partner would even listen to him with such a direct threat so close.

          Hershel looked as though he would've shot the man if he'd have had a weapon of his own. "Stand down, Mr. Walsh. This doesn't concern you. I will not have you murder anyone on this farm."

          Daryl gaped at the man. "That ain't people!"

          "He's right. They're dead. If they get loose, they'll be the ones murdering our group … your family, your  _daughters_! They need to be put down."

          "They're people. Good people. They're just sick," the farmer insisted. He would not be swayed no matter what Rick, or his group, had to say. "Now put down your weapons."

          "Hershel, you said yourself you saw what happened on the news broadcasts," Rick tried to reason with him. "These people are  _not_  sick. The camera's stopped rolling a long time ago. Because the walkers … the  _dead_  were rising and eating the living! Please. You've got to understand. You're protected here. You don't know what it's like  _out there_!"

          "I do understand. We'll be able to help them when the doctors find a cure."

          Shane lost it. His temper, his sanity, his soul, he didn't know. He just knew he had to make the man see through any means necessary. "They're not sick! They're dead! Lemme ask you something. Could a living, breathing person walk away from this?" He fired his gun, hitting the walker on Otis's lead. "Three rounds in the chest! Could someone who's alive, could they just take that?! Why is it still coming?" He fired another two rounds. "That's its heart, it's lungs … why is it still coming?"

          Daryl's grip tightened on his crossbow as it swung between the two walkers, ready to fire if necessary. Rick was yelling for Shane to stop, Hershel looked as if he were ready to collapse, Andrea didn't know what to do, frozen as she was in horror. "Shane, man, stop! That's enough!" Rick shouted over him.

          "You know, Rick, you're right. That  _is_  enough," Shane said, calm seeming to return to him as he raised his gun and fired one last time, directly to the head of the walker.

          Silence reigned for a moment as everyone stared at the former deputy … right before the unthinkable happened. Otis let go of the lead, the dead walker falling to the dirt as the big man fought for breath, completely exerted from trying to fight the thing all the way from the creek. Jimmy still held his firm, staring in stunned disbelief at Shane.  _Snap!_ Daryl called out a warning as the lead Jimmy held broke and the walker – moments ago which had been secure – lurched forward and sank its teeth in the back of Otis's neck. The bolt shot out of the crossbow, embedding itself in the walker's skull in a heartbeat … but it wasn't quick enough. There was no coming back from this.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next time: Rick & Glenn run into trouble in town. Carol has a chat with Hershel.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter Thirty-Nine

 

          Carol froze, the field glasses seemingly glued to her eyes. She'd seen everything, and it was all she could do to hold herself together in front of the kids. "Sophia, Carl … the two of you are on watch until someone can relieve you. What does that mean?" she asked, moving to stand next to the ladder.

          "We're not to leave our post until someone comes …" Carl was quick to respond. “Not for any reason.”

          "We stay focused on our surroundings and call out to the others if we see something," Sophia answered.

          "And we make sure we don't shoot anyone mistaking them for a walker?" Carl snickered.

          Carol would have laughed if she wasn't all too aware of what was going on at the barn. "Yes. I'll be back as soon as I can." She scurried down the ladder, not missing the worried look on her daughter's face, but Sophia didn't take her duties lightly, and she knew the children would remain at their post. "Dale," she called, "please keep an eye on them." She broke out into a run before he could reply, but she was sure he'd do as she asked.

 

*.*.*

 

          Hershel looked as if he were going into shock as Otis crumpled to his knees and collapsed in the dirt. Rick and Shane dropped down beside the big man and checked his wound as Daryl went over to the sprawled walkers and gave them a good kick to make sure they were indeed dead while Jimmy wrung his straw hat in his hands.

          "No!" Shane cried in stunned disbelief. "This wasn't supposed to happen." Anyone looking at the man could tell how truly remorseful he was. Otis might have been responsible for Shane's accident, but he was a good man.

          He tried to smile up at the deputy. "N-Not your fault. It was going to happen sooner or later with having to deal with these things. Is Hershel alright?" he asked, more worried about the man he'd served all these years than himself.

          "I'm here, Otis," Hershel said, kneeling by his head.

          Otis nodded and gripped Shane's hand. "Please, man. Please don't let me turn into one of those things. I don't want to … Patricia," he wept brokenly. "I can't hurt her!"

          "Oh, my god, how did this happen?" Carol asked as her sprint ended at the barn. "Has he really been bitten?"

          Daryl pulled her to the side, and she didn't fail to notice the disgust and barely-veiled fury behind his eyes. "Lead broke, and it took a chunk out of him before I could fire," he growled, clearly disgusted with himself. His lips brushed her ear. "This is some crazy shit, Carol, an' now that man is gonna die."

          "We need to get him to the house … make him as comfortable as possible in the time he has left," Carol said gently, sadness clouding her features. "He needs to be with his family."

          She laid a restraining hand on Shane's shoulder as he moved to help lift the man to his feet, her eyes swinging to Daryl in an unspoken ask for assistance. He and Rick had no trouble getting Otis on his feet and moving towards the old house.

          It was a slow trek, Otis's strength failing him. Patricia came out of the house to meet them, showing remarkable courage as she helped them to an empty bedroom as tears streamed over her ashen cheeks. Maggie hurried to get her father's kit, and Carol took charge to clean and bandage the wound. Patricia administered an oral painkiller to her husband. There was no need for him to suffer unduly as the end neared.

          Carol, her work done, inched towards the door, leaving Patricia and the Greene sisters to stand vigil. It all painfully reminded her of Jim, and the pain the poor man had suffered towards the end. At least Otis would be surrounded by his family. She closed the door quietly behind her, angry, raised voices drawing her down the hall towards the foyer. The first thing she noticed was Daryl's absence. She wasn't surprised. He wouldn't want to get himself involved in their petty squabbles, but she knew he wouldn't be far. She didn't feel the need to intrude on them either, but it was hard to miss their conversation.

          "You had no  _right_  to do what you did," Hershel hissed, pointing a long finger in Shane's direction. "What I do on my land has  _nothing_  to do with you people."

          Carol could see the pain behind Shane's dark eyes and she truly felt bad for him. She knew his only motivation had been his desire to protect them all.

          "It was an accident," Rick tried to reason with their host.

          "You can't think I meant for that to happen!" Shane protested loudly. "I wanted to protect everyone …  _everyone_  on this farm. What if they'd gotten out and massacred the lot of us?" He looked tortured as he raked a hand through his hair. "Your daughters?"

          Hershel gnashed his teeth as he tried to get ahold of himself. "You are dangerous and reckless," he spat. "I don't care what drove you to start shooting like that, but I'm not going to have it. I want all of you off of my farm … now!"

          "We can't," Rick said, his eyes pleading with the man. "We  _need_ to stay. You don't know what it's like out there!"

          "I don't care!"

          "My wife is pregnant. If you send us out there, you're handing her a death sentence!"

          Shane staggered back a step, his lips parting in shock. Before he could say anything, Carol left her spot next to the wall, and approached him. "Shane, come with me, please," she commanded gently, tugging lightly at his arm.

          "Carol, I –"

          "You're bleeding. Come with me and let me check your wound." She gave him a pointed look, and though he didn't want to go  _anywhere_ , he felt compelled to follow her to the kitchen.

          Shane allowed her to drag him away, and sat in one of the ladderback kitchen chairs as she reached for the first aid kit housed under the sink. He kept glancing towards the back door, wanting to rush out and make Lori confirm Rick's shocking statement, but he couldn't get his legs to move.

          Carol lifted his shirt off and set it on the table, frowning at his wound. "You've popped two stitches," she murmured disapprovingly. "It's not bad, though. I think a few butterfly strips should hold you."

          She went about cleaning it with disinfectant and applied some antibiotic ointment before he had regained his wits. Hershel had him on antibiotics for another few days. He'd be fine if he would just take it easy. "Is she really pregnant? Lori?"

          Carol sighed and nodded.

          "You knew?" he asked. He didn't sound surprised at all, more resigned than anything. "Of course, you knew."

          Carol shrugged. "She needs someone she can confide in, Shane."

          He watched her closely as she closed his wound with the strips and handed him his shirt, so he could put it back on. "Thanks, Carol." He laid a warm hand over hers as she moved to put the supplies back into the kit. "Do you know … d'you know if it's mine?"

          He was devastated by the news, and even though she'd never been close to him before, her heart ached for him. "No. And neither does she." She sighed heavily. "Let it go … just for now," she added when he opened his mouth to protest. "There's no way to do a paternity test, and it'll only cause more strife between the three of you if you confront her. She's made her choice, and you have to respect that."

          Shane dropped his head into his hands. "I'm never going to be able to fix this. First Lori and Rick, and now Otis. I swear I don't know how everything got so out of control."

          Carol bit her lip and then made a choice. She wasn't going to blame him for bad decisions when they were all guilty of them from time to time. She pulled him into a friendly hug. "It'll be ok as long as you don't give up. It wasn't your fault what happened to Otis. He and Jimmy shouldn't have been hiding them in the barn to begin with. Something was bound to happen."

          He sat back heavily in the chair. "I lost my head."

          "And now you have it back. You just have to try to hold back on that temper if something like this happens again," she advised gently. "You can't give up, Shane. We need you."

          "Y'all have Rick and Daryl. Maybe I should leave like Hershel wants."

          "We're stronger together. You go out there by yourself, and you won't last a week." It was her turn to reach out to him, covering his hand with her own and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Let yourself heal, and then I want you to do something for me."

          One dark brow arched in askance. "What's that?" he asked, his lip curling up on one side in a half moon grin. He was just as helpless as the rest of them when it came to Carol's compassion and sweet charm.

          "I want you to find your reason."

          "What?"

          "I want you to find the one thing that still makes you want to get up every morning and fight to live another day. Every one of us has one, Shane. I want you to find yours."

          He couldn't help but return her smile, feeling a little better. "What's yours?"

          Her features softened, and her smile was contagious. "Sophia and Daryl … and Merle too. My family. They're  _my_  reason."

 

*.*.*

 

.         The late afternoon sun warmed the hunter where he sat on the back porch whittling away at the bolt he was making. He groaned as he watched Lori Grimes stalking across the yard in his direction. The woman had woken a little after lunch time, screeching like a wet hen when her son had told her what had transpired out by the barn. She'd been outraged Rick hadn't come to her to tell her himself. He shook his head.  _Them two got issues._  She was further enraged when Hershel had gone missing and Rick and Glenn had left for town to bring him back. He couldn't blame the old man. If a member of his family were lying on their deathbed, he'd want to head for the bar too. He'd probably never come up out of the bottle if it were one of his girls.

          A half smile crept onto his lips as he listened to Carol hum, her sweet voice wafting through the open storm door. It blended well with the children as they sat playing a game of Old Maid from a deck Beth had given them. They wanted to be near Carol as she prepared dinner. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, the events at the barn had spooked them. It was also one of the reasons he was sitting on the porch. He didn't want his girls far from his sight. Carl either, for that matter. The little shit was starting to grow on him. Especially since he seemed joined at the hip with Sophia.

          "Daryl, can I ask you a favor?" Lori asked, stopping at the bottom of the steps and crossing her arms over her chest.

          She looked uncomfortable with her request. He stared at her blankly, keeping his face impassive until he heard what she had to say. He simply arched a brow as he continued working on the bolt.

          "I was wondering if you'd mind running into town to bring back my husband. They've been gone a while and I'm worried. They should've been back by now."

          He lifted his eyes up to meet hers. She was wearing that Queen Bitch look which Merle had hated so much. Like she was better than them, and it never failed to get his back up. "Nope."

          "What? Why not?"

          Daryl's eyes narrowed on her. "Not your errand boy, woman, an' I ain't your bitch. I'm sure Shane would be happy t' do your bidding, but he's still healin'. Rick asked me t' keep an eye on things while he was gone, an' I sure as hell wouldn't up an' leave Carol an' Soph here alone." He leaned forward a little, his lip curling into a sneer. "Why don'tcha have a lil' faith in your husband?"

          "What's going on?" Carol asked from the doorway, two bowls of the stew she'd made balanced in her hand.

          Lori looked upset, but she didn't want to worry her friend. "Nothing. Just worried about Rick."

          "Dinner's ready if you want to go in and eat with the children."

          "Thanks." Lori brushed past her with a nod, disappearing into the kitchen.

          Carol handed one of the bowls to Daryl and then sat down on the step just below him, leaning back against the hand rail. He glanced at her sheepishly as he devoured the flavorful stew. She'd even made rice with it to make sure it stretched enough to feed everyone. "You really shouldn't be so mean to her, Daryl."

          He grunted. "Don't like her."

          "Why?"

          "Because she's a manipulative bitch," he scowled down at her. "She's always naggin' Rick about some shit. Like she ain't got no faith in 'er man t' keep us safe." Daryl set his empty bowl down next to him and pulled her back into the vee of his legs to rest his chin on her shoulder. "Th' man was a cop. He's done good for us so far. Long as he does, we'll stick with him."

          Her shoulder shook with laughter beneath his chin. "Daryl Dixon, did you make a friend of our fearless leader?"

          "Shut up," he growled. His lips grazed her neck, sending her amused chuckles fleeing as she nestled back into his embrace to watch the sun set over the forest.

 

*.*.*

 

          It was well after dark. Lori and the kids had taken food out to Dale, Andrea and T-Dog while Carol tried to coax the Greene girls and Patricia to eat. None of them had had much of an appetite. Shane held his own vigil outside of Otis's sickroom. He'd made a promise to the big man not to let him turn. The women inside wouldn't have the stomach for it, and he still felt guilty over his actions. He'd keep his promise.

          Daryl's hawk-like stare kept watch over the grounds as far as he could see under the bright moonlight. Though he didn't care for Lori, he felt the children would be safe with her for the night. He needed to remain on watch, and Carol wanted to be inside if Maggie, Patricia or Beth needed her. He sighed deeply as he made another circuit of the porch, his crossbow resting comfortably along his right forearm. His woman was brimming with compassion, and a deep-seated love for those she regarded as her family, her friends.  _She's too damn trusting._ They would walk all over her given half the chance. He was determined to make sure that didn't happen, but he had to rein in his temper. He wouldn't crush her spirit as Ed had done. He needed to let her continue to be herself, to let her help as she saw fit.  _Why's shit gotta be so fuckin' hard?_

          He turned quickly, his feet carrying him swiftly into the yard as Hershel's dated Chevy pulled up to the house. The Cherokee was nowhere in sight, but he relaxed a little when both Glenn and Rick exited the vehicle. Hershel got out of the back, and helped the others remove a stranger from the back seat.

          "Th' fuck is this?" he growled, his eyes taking in the gaping wound in the kid's leg. Daryl shouldered the crossbow and moved to help get the newcomer inside.

          "This is Randall," Rick grunted as he grabbed one of the kid's legs.

          "We kinda ran into some trouble in town," Glenn explained.

          "What kinda trouble?" the archer asked, narrowing his eyes. “The kind that’s gonna follow y’ back here?”

          No one felt the need to answer that loaded question.

          They steadily made their way up the steps to the porch where Carol waited with the screen door open. "Who is that? Was he bitten?" she asked, leading the way down the hall to the bedroom Daryl had spent a few days in, recovering from his wounds.

          "Here, lay him down," Hershel barked. "Carol, can you please grab my kit from my office. I don't want to disturb the girls."

          Carol hurried from the room. Daryl backed away as Hershel scrubbed his hands in the bathroom next door and Rick cut the boy's pants leg away from the wound. "We met up with some unfriendlies at the bar," Rick said as he backed away to stand with his back against the wall. "We had to fight our way out."

          "Walkers?" Daryl asked, chewing nervously at his thumbnail.

          Glenn shook his head as Hershel and Carol came back into the room. "Carol, would you assist?"

          Her eyes widened, and she shot an anxious glance at Daryl, but then her spine stiffened, and she nodded. Hershel doused the wound with alcohol, but the boy didn't make a sound, having passed out when they pulled him off the wrought iron fence where he'd been trapped. "What if he wakes up?" she asked, eyeing the kid.

          Rick dug in the pouch at the back of his belt and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. He clapped one on the boy's wrist and the other to the bedpost. "There. He's not going anywhere."

          "Fine," Hershel huffed, never having had to do surgery on a prisoner before. He wondered briefly what his life had become because of this group. "Carol, we're going to need an IV."

          "I've never done that," she squeaked.

          "You'll do fine once I show you."

Daryl stepped out into the hall to give them space, Glenn and Rick following him. He whirled on the pair. "What th' hell? Tell me what's going on. Is he a danger to her?" he asked, nodding towards the now closed door where he'd left Carol. "Sophia?"

          Rick held up a hand to forestall the redneck's formidable temper. "Daryl, clam down and let me explain."

          Daryl looked between Rick and Glenn, his eyes narrowed and his chest heaving as he fought against the beginnings of an anxiety attack. He couldn't lose his shit and scare Carol. Finally, he nodded.

          "We went to the bar Maggie mentioned," Glenn began, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back into the wall. He was much better now they were home. "Hershel was drinking. He wasn't ready to come back with us, so we stayed."

          Rick raked a hand through his short hair and paced in agitation. "These two guys showed up, said they were part of a larger group, said they were looking for others to join up with."

          Daryl crossed his arms over his chest, feeling as if the walls were closing in on him. Now he knew how Carol had felt when they'd been in the CDC's hive so far underground. "I take it they weren't  _acceptable_  t' join ours, right?"

          Rick shook his head. "No. They seemed  _off_."

          "Way off," Glenn added.

          Daryl waved a hand at him. "Lemme guess … your cop vibe?"

          "Yeah, something like that," he sighed. "I killed them."

          "We'd just convinced Hershel to leave when their friends showed up. Then it got ugly," Glenn offered. "They started shooting, drew walkers. We had to fight our way out the back. We were almost to the truck when that kid dove off the roof across the street. He was trying to get to their truck, and landed on the spikes of a wrought iron fence, and his buddies left him."

          Daryl glared at them both. "So, y' thought it’d be a good idea t' bring him back  _here_  where he could be a threat t' our women? Our kids? Th' fuck's wrong with you?!"

          "Hershel refused to leave him, man. I didn't have a choice if I was going to persuade him to come back," Rick hissed. After what he'd done to Merle, he couldn't in good conscience repeat his mistake. Threat or not, he wouldn't leave a man behind so the walkers could feast on him.

          "So now we got about two dozen assholes five miles down th' road gonna be lookin' for revenge. Ain't that peachy," he drawled. "Why didn't y' jus' post little arrow signs along th' way t' point 'em in this direction?"

          Glenn dropped his hands to his side and met the redneck's furious gaze head on. "If we'd have left him, he'd have been walker bait. We don't leave people behind."

          "Tell that t' m' brother!"

          Rick and Glenn both had the decency to look ashamed.

          Daryl rolled his head back on his shoulders and silently counted to ten before he felt his inner beast quiet down. "An' you're too fuckin' trustin’, Short Round." He sighed. "So, what're we gonna do with 'im?"

          Rick swiped a hand over his face. "We wait. When he recovers from his wound, we'll question him, find out more about this group. Then we'll decide what to do with him."

          Daryl's lip curled in disgust.  _Christ! Another fuckin' charity case for his woman to fawn over. Fuckin' hell!_

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl and the others had moved to the parlor next to the kitchen, the limited space in the hallway making them all a bit tetchy. The hunter paced the worn rug, chewing anxiously at his thumbnail as he pondered on how he was to keep his girls safe with an unknown on the farm. Rick already had plans to lock the boy in one of the sheds until he could be questioned, but Daryl had made up his mind. He wouldn't hesitate to put him down if he so much as looked in Carol or Sophia's direction, be damned what Rick had to say about it. He longed for his brother. Merle would have his back. He'd help watch over them all.

          Carol looked tired when she emerged from the room and made her way down the hall towards them while Hershel ducked into the bathroom to wash the blood from his hands. She didn't hesitate to let Daryl pull her close to his side and wrap a comforting arm around her. "Y' a'right?"

          She nodded as she stepped away. "Hershel did what he could to save Randall's calf muscle, but it's going to be at least a week before he can use that leg. We're going to have to prepare another place for him. He can't stay in the house."

          "Andrea and T are already on it," Rick assured her.

          "Then what?" she asked, studying his face. "Are we going to send him on his way or integrate him into the group?"

          "Little bastard's caused enough trouble. We need t' get his ass out o' here as soon as possible," Daryl grumbled.

          Hershel didn't say a word as he passed them on his way into the kitchen. He poured himself a tall glass of water from the tap and sat down heavily at the table.

          Carol reached out and caught Rick's arm as he moved to join the farmer. "Let me talk to him?"

          Rick looked down at her with a puzzled frown. "You think you can? Like you did with Jenner? He's already said we could stay, but he's not in a good place."

          "I can try," she shrugged. "It can't hurt. You need to go see about Lori. She's worried for you, and it's not good for her condition. She doesn't need the added stress."

          Rick hugged her and pressed his lips to her brow. "Thank you, Carol." He let her go just as quickly, not having missed the glare Daryl shot him. "I'll check in with you later."

          Glenn excused himself to check in on Maggie. The boy seemed shaken up, but he was resilient, and would be just fine. It was a wakeup call for him. The world was changing rapidly. Lawlessness was quickly spreading, and men like Dave and Tony were in their element. How long before the people left on the planet lost their humanity completely?

          Daryl passed through the kitchen, casting a side-eyed glance over at Hershel where the man sat with his head in his hands at the table. Carol turned the burner on under the stew to warm it, and he wrapped an arm about her waist, his lips ghosting over her ear. "Y' want me t' stay?" he whispered.

          She shook her head. "No, but don't go far."

          "I'll be jus' outside." With one more glance at the farmer, he pushed through the screen door onto the back porch. He didn't see Hershel as a threat, but if his woman wanted him nearby, wild horses couldn't drag him away.

          While she was waiting for the stew to heat, Carol made a pot of coffee. She was flagging, longing for her bed, but she didn't want to pass up the opportunity to comfort the man while she could. He seemed broken, and her heart went out to him. Dishing up a bowl, she carried it over to him, and sat down next to him with her mug of coffee.

          He stared down into the contents of the bowl, breathing in the flavorful aroma for a long moment before he lifted his pale blue eyes to her. "You're making it a habit of taking care of my family."

          Carol took a sip of her coffee. "I enjoy it. For me, it's normal … routine. I'm not really good at anything else."

          He dug into his dinner, hoping the food would settle his stomach and drive away the effects of the alcohol he'd drunk. He pointed at the belt about her waist where her weapons hung. "Something tells me that's not all you're capable of."

          She shrugged, a fond smile curling her lips slightly as her hand went to the hilt of her knife. "A gift from Daryl. Some men shop at Hallmark, mine shops at Guns and Ammo. He's adamant about us being able to defend ourselves. If it weren't for him, Sophia never would have survived those days lost in the woods."

          Hershel pushed the bowl away after a few bites, hanging his head. "I didn't want to believe him. Rick told me there was no cure, that these people were dead, not sick. I _chose_ not to believe that."

          Carol reached out and laid a sympathetic hand atop his own. "None of us wanted to believe it. We  _all_  hoped it was a fluke."

          His eyes were tortured when they locked onto hers. "When Shane shot Lou in the chest and she just kept coming, that's when I knew what an ass I'd been, that Annette had been dead long ago! That's when I knew there was no hope. There is no hope for any of us."

          She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "There's always hope, Hershel. Where there's life, there's hope. When it all started, there were those who succumbed to the virus, and then there were those who were bitten later. Why weren't we affected? Why didn't we die when the virus spread? Because God has a purpose for us. He wanted us to survive for a reason."

          He shook his head numbly. "Our god is infinite in his mercy. Why would he spare me only to take my Annette? My stepson, Shawn?"

          Carol regarded him steadily. "It isn't our place to question Him." She sighed and sat back in her chair, staring down at her fidgeting fingers where they rested on her lap. "Before Daryl, I stayed in a marriage which offered me nothing but pain and abuse. Why am I here? I've asked myself that so many times, and only one answer is plainly evident to me. God wanted me to find Daryl. He wanted us to heal one another, to find a love people only dream about. Just as I believe He led us here to find you and your family."

          She took his bowl to the sink, giving him time to process everything she'd said. He got up and stood beside her to refill his water glass. "You think he led you here because of Shane?"

          "And Lori. She's going to need you to help deliver that baby," she said gently. "You're needed, Hershel. God isn't finished with you yet."

          Hershel swiped a hand over his face and leaned his palms on the counter. "I told Rick your group was welcome to stay. After what I saw at the barn, and later in town … I can't send you back out into that. None of you."

          Carol wrapped her arms around the man's shoulders and pulled him into a warm grateful hug. "Thank you," she murmured, nearly weak with relief as she pulled away. "I'm glad it didn't come down to a fight. Rick would never be able to leave you here vulnerable."

          It wasn't surprise which colored his features, but rather resignation. "Rick is a good leader. I know his conscience wouldn't have allowed him to just leave us here. I'm sure we'll be able to work together now."

          "The barn …" she hedged.

          "It will have to be cleared," he replied with a weary sigh. "Annette …"

          She peered up at him with watery blue eyes. "They will be gentle, Hershel. Then she will be laid to rest and you can find peace." She offered him a warm smile as she turned to go, but his last question had her halting with her hand on the screen door.

          "What became of your first husband, if you don't mind my asking?"

          "He died in the attack on our quarry camp. Ed was in the process of trying to abduct me and Sophia while Daryl was away, and the walkers got ahold of him." She swallowed thickly. "None of us mourned his passing. He was an evil man, and the world is bad enough."

          Hershel nodded. "Goodnight, Carol."

          "Goodnight, Hershel."

          She'd barely stepped out onto the porch when she felt Daryl's arms slip around her waist to pull her snugly against his chest. His lips slanted over hers in a tender kiss. "You're amazin'. Y' know that, right?"

          She blushed under his praise, wondering if she'd ever get used to his compliments. "What I am is tired. Take me to bed?"

          Daryl wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side. "Hell yeah."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next time: Daryl & Maggie clear the barn, and the group begins to train.


	40. Chapter 40

 

          Jade green eyes narrowed on the street below her bedroom window as she watched the goings on in the small town. It was nearly dusk, and the curfew set by that psychopath in charge would send everyone fleeing to their homes soon. Fires were already being lit along the main street to cut the absolute darkness which would permeate the small village. Only those on watch and patrol would be allowed to roam the streets after dark. Protective walls surrounded them, providing a sense of security to the citizens, but she'd never felt more vulnerable. Martine Comeaux didn't like to feel vulnerable. It made her want to shoot someone. Despite the havoc the walking dead wreaked upon the earth, she'd much rather be out there fighting than holed up inside Woodbury.

          Her ears twitched as she heard the shower cut off in their small one-bedroom apartment. She trusted Merle with every fiber of her being. They'd grown up together, gotten in trouble together, loved one another in their own way for years. Why wouldn't she trust him? But she was having a hard time following through with this latest scheme of his. She didn't trust the self-proclaimed 'governor' who lorded over the town.

          Marty leaned back against his chest as Merle wrapped his arms around her from behind, but she couldn't force herself to relax. He wound her long ebony locks around his hand, tugging her head back and pressing his lips against her pale ivory throat. Though she felt the heat building low in her belly, she was still taut as a bow string.

          He sighed as his hands worked their way under the silky camisole she wore. "What's wrong, Sugar? Y' ain't still broodin' about th' run, are y'?"  
         

          She clucked her tongue in disgust as she glared at him over her shoulder. "Shut it, Merle. Y' know that guy ain't right," she hissed. "And y' cain't tell me y' ain't seen it for yourself. I saw it in your eyes, an' you're lucky he don't know y' well enough t' see it for himself. If Blake sees you're not a hundred percent on board with his shit, he'll take you out too."

          Marty shuddered as she thought of the run they'd just returned from. Their governor hadn't been interested in the town they'd visited per se. More the supply depot the military had left abandoned when the refugee center had fallen. She and Martinez had been asked to raid the pharmacy nearby for anything useful. She didn't mind Martinez. He was a decent enough guy, but she'd balked being forced to split from Merle's side. They were first and foremost a team, and Blake was testing them to see if they'd follow his orders. The pharmacy was pretty much cleaned out, and they'd returned to the depot to find fresh bodies littering the ground.

          Oh, he was smooth and charismatic. There was no doubt about that, but to just open fire on the handful of military personnel left there to guard the guns? Merle hadn't been able to meet her eyes when she'd forced him to explain, but she was all too familiar with the rage burning in him, barely controlled.

          "We need t' leave, Darlin'," she whispered softly, her hand rising to stroke his stubbled cheek. "I know y' want this place for Daryl an' your little family, but this guy is goin' t' get us killed. An' that's if he doesn't do th' job himself."

          He nipped at her ear. "Y' know why we have t' stay. I ain't givin' up this idea jus' because o' that asshole." He carded his fingers through her soft hair. "I'm doing this for you too, Sugar."

          Yes, she knew. It was because he wanted a safe place where Daryl could be happy with his woman, a place where Merle's little peach could grow up without the threat of walkers and evil men bent on mayhem, and he wanted to keep Marty safe to see if maybe their tentative relationship could grow into something meaningful. The only reason he'd joined forces with the men in this town, was so he'd have help finding his family. Once he'd set his sights on Woodbury, she'd been able to see his goals shift. It was no longer just about finding his family. It was all about protecting them once he did.

          "What really happened while me an' Caesar were checkin' out th' pharmacy?"

          Merle tightened his arms around her, leaving not an inch of space between them. "Much as y’ might expect from th' likes o' him. Those men had somethin' he wanted. He went in an' took it."

          "Y' notice the lumber supply place at th' end o' town? I'm sure we coulda brought back a shit ton o' supplies to reinforce the walls, yet he ignored it. What is his obsession with fire power?"

          He shrugged. "He's power hungry, Sugar. He's a plague o' locusts wrapped up in deadly strategy an' a charmin' smile. He'll reassure y' with that warm grin while he's knifin' y' in th' ribs."

          Marty frowned. "He's goin' t' take take take until there's nothin' left but him an' his little kingdom."

          He wrapped his big hands around her tiny waist and tossed her onto the bed, dropping the towel about his waist to the floor and settling between her legs. "He jus' don't know we're gonna take it first. We jus' have t' pick our moment."

          Her eyes darkened as he pressed against the silk shorts covering her sex, her hands sliding up his bare chest as he left a trail of heat along her collarbone. "How much longer, Merle? Y' know where Daryl is now … so what's t' stop y' from guttin' that bastard governor an' takin' this place?"

          His head dropped against her breastbone. "Martine, yer killin' th' mood."

          She cradled his face in her hands, forcing his gaze up to hers. "I don't want t' lose you, Merle. I can't … I  _won't_  … do this shit without you. I lo-"

          He cut her off with a kiss. "None o' that now," he admonished gently. "After it's done. Remember yer promise, girl."

          Marty nodded. She wished she'd never made that promise, but she'd hold to it. No sharing their feelings until Woodbury belonged to them. It was a distraction, but it wouldn't change the way she felt. She moaned softly in the back of her throat as he worked the camisole over her head and she could feel his heated flesh cover hers.

          "Y' ain't gonna lose me, Sugar. Y' know only a Dixon can kill a Dixon."

          "You're avoiding," she breathed, slowly losing herself in his touch.

          Merle groaned, rolling onto his back and bringing her with him so she was straddling his hips. He knew she would withhold herself from him until she got what she wanted. He just wondered why he let her have her way all the damn time.

          "We need th' men t' see Blake for what 'e is … a monster. As quickly as I've risen in th' ranks, who th' hell y' think they'll get behind t' be their next leader?"

          "And y' want that? T' be their leader?" she snorted.

He shrugged. "Least 'til I can get th' others here. Officer Friendly may be an asshole, but from what I've seen, he's done right by my brother an' th' girls."

          "An' y' gleaned that while y' been spyin' on 'em th' last few days?" she asked skeptically as she kneaded the tense muscles in his shoulders. "Y' better hope Blake don't find out what you've been doin'. It wouldn't hurt y' t' talk t' Daryl … tell him what's goin' on."

          "Soon."

          "How soon?"

          He pulled her down for a kiss, rocking his hips up into her. "Soon."

          "Damnit, Merle! Stop tryin' t' distract me," she scolded.

          "Why? Is it workin'?" he smirked.

          "What about that new group Blake let in a few days ago? The tall ginger with th' twitchy mullet guy an' those two girls?"

          Merle groaned and let his head drop back heavily onto the pillow. "Ginger's a'right. Don't think I ever seen one more dedicated t' his little band o' followers. Won't take 'im long t' see through th' governor's horseshit. Shouldn't take long t' get 'im on our side."

          "And th' big black guy an' his sister?" she asked, wondering over the man who'd been recruited the same time she and Merle had joined Woodbury's ranks.

          "Ty's already on board. He's jus' waitin’ on my signal," he said smugly.

          She smacked him lightly on his chest. "Why'd y' keep it from me?"

          "Because y' ain't gave me no time t' tell y', girl," he chuckled. "He just told me when we got back. Y' know he wasn't wantin' no part of what happened today."

          She raked her nails over the flat plane of his stomach and grinned. She knew he loved it when she turned playful. "It might come down t' all-out war," she purred, not that she had any problem with that. She had every faith her Dixon would win if it came to that. "Y' need t' talk t' your brother. He needs t' be warned about the governor. What would happen if Blake or those loyal t' him found Daryl's group out there on th' road?"

          Marty slipped off his lap to kneel between his legs, her lips trailing a hot path along his belly. He arched beneath her, letting her know exactly what he wanted her to do with that sweet mouth of hers. "That ain't such a bad idea. Baby brother shouldn't be kept in the dark."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl stared down at her petulant expression as it gave way into a fierce scowl. Where the fuck was Carol? She should be the one dealing with their daughter's obstinacy.  _And jus' whose fault is that?_  a little voice in the back of his head asked.  _Yours!_  Ugh! Not even his conscience was on his side today. He shook his head at her for the third time.

          "Daddy, you're just being mean!" she said finally. He arched a brow as she stamped her foot. _Really_?

          "No, I ain't, Soph. You can call me all th' names y' want, but y' still ain't goin' into that barn with me."

          "But, Dad –" she whined mournfully. Gawd, he hated when she turned that doe-eyed stare on him and pleaded so prettily. It hurt his heart something fierce.

          "No!"

          Rick and T-Dog were standing several feet from them, trying their best to hide their sniggers behind their hands. Shane had thrown a fit when he'd found out about their 'guest' who had been moved to the shed, and had taken it upon himself to stand guard over him. He'd taken the news hard, especially after Otis had expired surrounded by his family and friends. Shane had waited for the room to clear before he'd slipped inside to make sure the big man wouldn't turn. He was still blaming himself. Rick had warned him to stay away from the barn, claiming he had no reason to come out and help when he was still healing. Their leader could see the man's remorse, and had eased up on his ill feelings toward him, but they still had a long way to go before Shane would be able to win back Rick's trust.

          T and Rick were going to dig the graves for Annette and Shawn while Daryl cleared the barn. It would be easy to use his crossbow from the loft and take them all out. Though he'd already planned to use his knife on Hershel's immediate family after the others were dead. He didn't want to leave marks on them if he could avoid it. The old man deserved to be able to say goodbye without having to witness trauma to their bodies. He was sure the natural decay would be hard enough to bear. Maggie stood near the ladder, a rifle slung over her shoulder … one he doubted she would need. This was his task, not hers.

          "Daddy," Sophia said, slipping her hand into his much larger one. "I don't want you to have to do this by yourself."

_Aw, hell! Right in the gut._

          He took a knee before her and rested his hands atop her thin shoulders. "Baby girl, I won't be alone. Maggie's goin' up there with me. Nothin' is gonna happen t' me. Is that what you're worried about?"

          Sophia nodded, biting her lip as she averted her gaze down to her feet. She reminded him so much of her mother. "I need y' t' understand why y' cain't go with me," he said, tipping her chin up. "You're probably th' strongest girl I know, not t' mention brave. But I don't want y' t' see me put down all those walkers. This ain't like when we're out there an' fightin' t' stay alive. I jus' want y' t' stay innocent a little longer. Can y' understand that?  _You_  don't need t' kill  _anything_  unless it's absolutely necessary."

          "What if you fall? Or trip? It only takes a second to have an accident," she protested. "Look what happened when you found me, Dad. You didn't mean to fall down that ravine … twice!"

          Daryl sighed and shook his head. "That was a fluke. Me an' Maggie are gonna take care of this. Then after th' service, we'll work on that hand t' hand I wanted t' show y' yesterday. But  _only_  if y' stop giving me shit about this, Sophia. Y' don't see Carl arguin' with  _his_  daddy."

          She crossed her small arms over her chest and smirked. "That's because if he did, Rick would tell Lori and then she'd bust both their asses."

          "Don't say ass! Your mama's already givin' me hell about your mouth, girl. But you're right.," he said, jerking his chin in Rick's direction. "Now g'on and find Carol. See if she needs help with th' chores."

          Her eyes narrowed. "You promise you'll come get me when you're done? And just so we're clear, I'll be worried about you the whole time you're in there."

          "Yes," he growled, exasperated with her. He hugged her close when she threw her arms around his neck. "Go. Off with y'!"

          He climbed to his feet when she ran off with Carl back towards the house and blew out a frustrated breath. His chest was tight with emotion, still unused to the girl's affection. He didn't feel worthy of Sophia and Carol's love, but he was working on it. He glared at Rick and T-Dog, their knowing grins raising his hackles. "What th' fuck y'all lookin' at?"

          "That little girl's got you wrapped around her finger," T chortled.

          Rick was grinning like a loon. "Seems fatherhood really suits you, Daryl. Sophia's clearly accepted you as her father, and Carol is completely besotted with you. So … all you have to do is make it official. Have you set a date yet?"

          He threw an arm in their direction. "Man, fuck y'all! I ain't got time for this teasin' crap. Ain't y'all got some holes t' dig?"

          "Dum dum de dum," T-Dog sing-songed, rather enjoying himself. Rick and Maggie both laughed at the hunter's discomfort. Maggie was more clued in to Daryl and Carol's matrimonial state than her father and sister were, thanks to Glenn's love of gossip.

          He flipped them all a rude gesture as he stalked towards the ladder and made a quick nimble climb into the loft. He didn't know why all of them couldn't just stay the hell out of his business. The putrid smell of rot from inside the barn had him wrinkling his nose, but he didn't hesitate to find a spot with a good view of the walkers below.

          Maggie dropped down next to him and let her legs swing freely over the side. "They were just teasing y'know."

          Daryl grunted in acknowledgement as he pulled the string back on the bow. "Yeah, I know. Bunch o' hens with their meddlin' an' gossipin'. Rick would do better t' worry about his own woman." He glanced over at her. "Y' see 'em down there?"

          "No, too dark. They might be hidin' beneath us," she murmured, her country twang soft but prominent in the gloom. "They'll come out."

          He dropped three before he turned back to her. "I'm not gonna ask y' t' stay after y' point 'em out. Y' don't need t' see that."

          Maggie stared at him for a long time, studying him. "I was kinda scared of you when you first came here. You were all rough around the edges, angry."

          He let another bolt fly, but didn't respond. He knew she'd get to her point eventually.

          "But then I saw you with Carol. I don't think I've seen such love in a long time. And then there was your obvious concern for Sophia. You sure she's not your blood?" she teased.

          "I’ve only known Carol for a couple o' months. Yeah, I'm sure," he retorted as he dropped another of the corpses below. Why had he felt compelled to open up to her? He didn't even know her, but she was easy to talk to. She was kind, and he supposed he was a sucker for genuine kindness considering he'd had so little experience with it throughout the course of his life. "She tell y' our story? How we met?"

          "No, but I'm hoping she will when she knows me a little better. I really like your little family, Daryl. I want us all to be friends," she said earnestly, shooting him that little smile which reminded him of pixies he'd seen in a mural on Canton street in Atlanta once when he'd been there with Merle. Some street artist had painted it right there on the sidewalk, and he'd been entranced by it.

          "Carol's easy to love. Sophia too."

          Maggie sucked in a sharp breath as she glanced below at the half dozen walkers which remained, her hand falling to his arm as she covered her mouth with the other. Tears welled in her eyes, and he looked away. "There," she pointed. "The beige dress … that's my stepmother. Shawn is the one in the overalls."

          Daryl nodded, easily picking off the others milling around until he was sure there were only her two family members left to be dealt with. "G'on out. I'll get this an' then we'll open up th' doors an' start pullin' 'em out for burial and burnin'."

          She wiped her nose on her sleeve, and shook her head, climbing to her feet and moving to descend the ladder. "No. I'm not gonna have you go down there by yourself. I'll watch your back in case we missed any."

          "Damnit, girl!" he cursed as he moved to follow. What was it with all the women he knew having to be so damn stubborn? He followed her silently, pleased the two remaining walkers hadn't noticed them. They were still sniffing around their fallen comrades. He didn't scold her. It would've been a waste of breath. Instead, he squared his shoulders and looked around for any others he might've missed. There were none, thankfully. Her hand gripped the hunting knife she'd slipped onto her belt that morning as tears streamed down her face. "Y' want t' –" he whispered, pointing towards them.

          She nodded. "It should be done by someone who loved them."

          He sighed with resignation, and pulled her close so he could talk low into her ear. "I'll hold your mom for y' until y' can get your brother, a'right? It should be easy to slip up behind him. Wrap your arm around 'is neck an' slip th' knife into 'is skull." He showed her with his own knife how to bring it up, and she was careful to pay attention to his instruction.

          He gave her a gentle nudge in the small of her back, and he had to admire her courage to do the task herself. He stealthily moved parallel to her and wrapped his arms around Annette from behind, hoping she didn't lose a limb when she began to struggle against him, snapping and snarling with all her might. Maggie let out a broken sob as she did as Daryl had told her and finished with her brother. She dropped to her knees, cradling the boy as he fell with her.

          "Maggie!"

          She pushed her grief aside and hurried over to him. Their eyes met, trusting him not to let go as she slid the blade into her stepmother's head. Daryl did the same with her, lowering her gently to the hay ridden dirt floor. He pulled Maggie away from them and towards the barn door, cringing when she threw her arms around his neck.  _Aw hell!_  he thought, his face scrunching up in discomfort. He patted her back awkwardly as she slobbered all over his vest. With a heavy hand, he rapped on the doors to signal Rick to open them.

          Daryl squinted against the bright sunlight, having grown used to the gloom of the barn. "T, go fetch Glenn t' come see about his woman, would y'?"

          T-Dog nodded and trotted back to camp to pull Glenn off watch. Rick took a tearful Maggie into his own arms, freeing Daryl. "Were there any others?" he asked quietly.

          "Naw, we got 'em all." His gaze wandered towards the great white farmhouse, the need to see Carol nearly overwhelming. "Y' got this? I'ma run up an' check on m' girls."

          Rick nodded, and Daryl hurried out of the barn.

 

*.*.*

 

          The front yard was deserted as he came around the side path. He hadn't really expected to find her there, but it was on his way. The camp set up under the great oaks was quiet. Andrea gave him a quick nod on her way to the barn to help remove the bodies, Dale was on watch and Lori was giving lessons to the children. He waved his daughter back down as she rose from her seat to meet him. She needed to do her studies. He didn't put much stock in them, but Carol and Lori insisted their children have a bit of normalcy. Seeing the laundry hung out to dry on the makeshift lines, he knew where he would find her.

          It was all he could do to keep his emotions in check as he sprinted around the back of the house and hurled himself up onto the porch and through the screen door into the kitchen. "Carol!" he rasped, startling Beth where she was chopping vegetables at the island.

          "Somethin' wrong, Daryl?" she asked, setting the knife down.

          "Carol … where is she?"

          Beth shot him a wide-eyed stare and pointed. "She's in the pantry lookin' for –"

          He didn't care what his woman was doing in there. He was just relieved he'd found her. He slammed the door behind him, startling Carol and causing her to drop several cans to the floor. The large walk-in was lined with shelves full of canned and dry goods, box dinners and mason jars filled with fruits and vegetables grown right there on the farm. He pulled her deeper into the room and backed her into a dark corner, his arms wrapping around her as he buried his face in her throat.

          "Daryl!" she gasped, her arms trapped between them. There was no escape for her until he was ready to let her go. Which wouldn't be anytime soon, she was guessing. His breaths panted against her cool skin, warming her from the inside out, but somehow, she just knew his actions had nothing to do with wanting a midday tryst. "What has gotten into you? Are you hurt?"

          Daryl loosened his grip enough for her to free her arms and wrap them around his shoulders, reveling in the feeling of her pulling him closer. His heart beat a painful tattoo against his ribs and his lungs burned, anxiety clawing at his chest.

          Carol held onto him, carding her fingers through his hair to soothe him. She didn't like the darkness surrounding them with only the meager light from the flashlight still resting on the shelf. "Tell me what's wrong. You're scaring me," she breathed brokenly. She sucked in a sharp breath and let her hands roam over him. "W-Were you bitten?"

          He shook his head, forcing himself to calm down. "No."

          The air whooshed out of her in relief, and she sagged against him. "Don't do that to me!" she scolded, though her grip on him didn't loosen.

          Daryl finally lifted his head and pressed his brow to hers, feeling as if his world had righted itself. "Jus' needed y'. I'm sorry I scared y'."

          "Is everyone alright? Sophia?"

          "Yeah, everybody's fine, woman. I guess I jus' got a little spooked is all," he sighed. "Maggie went with me t' clear th' barn."

          She braced her arms against his chest, moving him back an inch or two so she could see him clearly. "Is she ok?"

          He nodded. "She's fine."

          Carol began to wonder if she was going to have to drag every word out of him. "Then tell me what scared you," she coaxed gently. It wasn't like him at all to let killing a few walkers spook him, much less allow it to show. Something else had to have happened.

          "It was fine until it was time t' put her family down. She insisted on doin' it herself." He shuddered. "It made me think what if … what if it had been you or Sophia, an' I –"

          He couldn't finish. He slid down the wall and pulled her down to sit on his lap, once more burying his face in the crook of her neck. She clung to him, sharing his pain, soothing it with her touch.

          "I'm here, Daryl. I'm not going anywhere."

          "I can't lose y', woman." He pulled her down to press a kiss to her lips, needing more than anything to taste her, to drown himself in her love. "I ain't never had nothin' good in my life 'til you."

          Her nails scratched along his stubbled jaw, her smile chasing away his pain. "You won't lose me. We get stronger every day, Daryl. We  _will_  survive this."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl felt better as the sun beat down on his back and the early autumn breeze shifted and rolled through the trees. The service for those fallen members of the Greene family hadn't taken long, and Carol had served them a nice lunch out on the front lawn, encouraging Patricia, Hershel and Maggie to share stories of their loved ones. Beth had even sung a song which had been her mother's favorite. Daryl hadn't much cared for all the pomp and ceremony which usually went into a funeral. It made his skin itch, but with Carol and Sophia there at his side, he hadn't had much choice but to attend and bear with it. It startled him bone deep to realize how much he'd changed for them. He no longer let his Dixon temper rule his life. It was no longer just him and Merle against the world. There were rules where his girls were concerned, and he would follow them to the letter to make them happy.

          The look of intense concentration on Sophia's dirt-streaked face snapped him out of his reverie. He needed to focus. He'd kept his promise to drag her and Carl out into the pasture for some training. He just hadn't expected most of the group to follow them out there. At least they were serious in their desire to learn. Either that, or they were afraid the kids would make them look bad. That thought amused him.

          He glanced over Sophia's head where Rick stood next to Lori and Maggie watching the demonstration. If he blocked them out and concentrated on Carol and the children, he was able to focus. He really didn't like being in the spotlight, however. Sophia clutched the wooden handle in her hand. He'd made it for her to practice. The blade of the knife had been broken off, but the handle would give her a feel for the real thing.

          "How was that, Dad?" she asked as she reached out a hand to help Carl to his feet.

"Y' put 'im on 'is ass, so I'd say y' did a good job." His attention shifted to the boy sprawled at his daughter's feet. "A'right, boy. Where's the three places y' wanna aim for if y' got a walker comin' at y'?"

          "I thought there were four," Carl frowned.

          "Name 'em."

          Carl relaxed, realizing Daryl had misled him on purpose. "Base of the skull, in the eye, the temple, and under the chin – if the blade is long enough - are the best places. The top of the head or the forehead take too much force and you said we're not strong enough … yet."

          Daryl smirked down at him, more than a little pleased Carl had caught it. "Good. You an' Soph, take a knee over there. Carol!"

          His woman hesitantly stepped forward. She didn't like to be in the spotlight either. These were their people, and she had no reason to feel awkward, but he could see it in her eyes. She had a good friendship with each member of their group, but years of abuse still had her wanting to be invisible. He held out his hand to her, pulling her into the small circle the group made around them.

          "On runs, it's always a good idea t' be partnered with someone. A single person could take out two or three, right? What happens if y' get cornered an' there's more comin’?"

          Andrea snorted. "Then you become a walker snack. How are we supposed to defend ourselves with just a knife?"

          Daryl glared at her. "C'mon, Blondie. Y' sayin' y' can't do somethin'?" he challenged her. "Rick, Glenn, Maggie, Carol, Beth … y'all get t' be walkers, so get yer asses in here." He motioned to the center of the circle.

          "What do you want us to do?" Rick asked, intrigued.

          He took the knife handle from Sophia and took a fighting stance. The men and women he'd called forward were all standing there looking at each other with a mixture of anticipation and fear. When tangling with a Dixon – no matter how innocently – someone was bound to get bruised.  

          "When y' feel a blow t' any of th' points Carl mentioned, I want y' on th' ground," he grinned, his smoky blue eyes narrowed and filled with delight with his role of instructor. He'd lost his trepidation and embraced it. He just had to remember to explain his actions as he went along, and go slow enough so no one would miss any of his moves. "We clear? A'right, come at me!"

          The group rushed him, and he danced away before they could take him down. He glowered at the laughing idiots and braced his hands on his hips. "Gawd, seriously?! What's wrong with y'all? I'm tryin' t' teach y' somethin' here! Y' ever see a walker move that fast?"

          "Sorry!"

          "We were just trying to lighten the mood, Daryl."

          "Jeeze, dude, chill," Glenn said. Daryl grabbed his hat and swatted the boy atop the head … twice.

          "If y'all cain't take this seriously, I'ma make all o' y'all run laps with Carol an' th' kids later," he threatened.

          That seemed to get them back in the mood. Once more he took a stance and beckoned them forward. Arms outstretched and grasping, they came at him. "Remember, you're driven by hunger. Y' gotta be focused on takin' me down." He grabbed ahold of Beth's wrist and pulled her forward, swinging with a well-placed blow to her eye as he drifted out of reach of Maggie. That girl seemed to be having way too much fun. He pushed, his hand flat in the center of her chest, and she fell back into Rick. They both stumbled back, giving him time to wrap an arm around Glenn from behind and knife his temple. But he didn't let go, driving forward towards the other three. "Two down! If y' can, use one as a shield t' protect yerself."

          "Go, Dad!" Sophia cheered from the sidelines where Dale and Andrea stood watching. "Get 'em!"

          Daryl watched a grinning Carol from the corner of his eye and threw Walker Glenn at Rick. Their leader was taken by surprise – though not as much as Glenn – and fell back on his ass under the boy's weight. Maggie stopped, glancing down to make sure Glenn wasn't hurt and Daryl pressed the knife handle beneath her chin. "Distracted is dead, girl!" While she sat down and sulked for failing, he quickly dropped to a knee beside Rick and jabbed him in the forehead. That just left Carol.

          He felt the blood turn to ice in his veins. In his mind's eye, he could see her lovely azure eyes morph into a sickly yellow, watch her ivory skin turn a shade of grey he associated with the dead. No! his mind screamed. Not her. His heart threatened to pound out of his chest. Then her steps slowed, her eyes meeting his, and he knew she understood. She was giving him a chance to compose himself before she reached him. It was imperative to finish the demonstration for the group, the children. Even for himself. He needed to show them he could do this.

          Life returned to him, and he pushed her back far more gently than he'd handled the others. His hand wrapped around her throat and he thrust the knife handle towards the back of her skull. As soon as it touched her, she let her knees buckle and she slid to the ground.

          Sophia whooped when he was done, shooting Andrea a smug look. "See! Now that's how it's done," she crowed.

          Carl stared at the hunter in amazement. "That was awesome!"

          "Settle down, Soph," he said, easing his tone with a wink in her direction before facing the group. "Y' ain't gotta have brute strength. Any one o' y' coulda done th' same. Y' just gotta be shown how. Thing is … there's more than jus' th' dead out there. Th' livin' is what you're gonna have t' worry about, because they _can_ fight back. Guns'll get y' only so far because the sound draws more. Y' gotta know how t' do this with jus' a knife."

          "Daryl, how'd you learn to do that?" Rick asked, hands on his hips as he stared the hunter down. "They don't teach anything like that at the academy, and it's more beneficial than some of the stuff we  _did_  learn."

          Daryl ducked his head. "Merle taught me how t' defend myself. Came in handy a few times," he admitted sheepishly. “Jus’ adapted what I know t’ use against walkers.”

          "We …  _all_  of us … need to train daily. You up for that?"

          "Yeah. Couple o' hours in the morning, maybe?"

          "That sounds –" Rick froze, his gaze narrowing on the tree line.

          Daryl swung around, searching where Rick was looking, but he didn't see anything. "What'd y' see? Walker?"

          Rick shook his head. "No … no, it must've just been the sun in my eyes. Trick of the light. There's nothing there."

          "Y' sure? We could go have a closer look." What with another group in town, he didn't want to take chances.

          "It's fine. Let's pair up and see what else you can teach us."

          Daryl shot one more glance out to the trees, wondering what would be coming for them next, but he pushed it aside … for now.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next time. Carol takes a risk and Daryl loses his shit. A decision is made.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Smut warning for this chapter.

 

 

          "This is a bad idea, Carol."

          "No, it's not."

          "Yes, it is!"

          "No, it's not."

          "Yes –"

          Carol glared at Shane over the tray she held tightly in her hands as she made her way across the lawn to one of the storage sheds. "Are we really going to do this?" she asked, cutting him off. "There's no telling when that boy had his last meal, and with the wound in that leg, he surely needs something for the pain."

          He stepped in front of her, blocking her path. "Couldn't you just send out a can of Spaghetti-O's and some Tylenol? T-Dog could slip it in to him."

          "But then I wouldn't have the chance to talk to him."

          Shane groaned and rushed to keep up with her as she stepped around him. "We already tried. He said he don't have anything to say."

          "Who's  _we_? Has Rick been out to talk to him already?"

          "No. Me and T tried to have a chat while we were moving him this morning."

          Carol shot him an exasperated look. "I can just imagine. Does he have any new wounds I should know about?"

          "Naw … nothing like that, Carol." He grinned at her.

          "He's probably frightened out of his mind, in  _pain,_  without a clue as to who he can trust." She narrowed her eyes at him. "And I'll bet you played off of that, didn't you?"

          He averted his gaze guiltily.

          "Lord, my load is heavy," she mumbled dryly as she stepped between the chicken coop and the lean-to for the generators. The shed was directly behind it, and T-Dog cursed the moment he saw her.

          "Aw, hell no!"

          "Unlock the door, Theodore," she said in a no-nonsense tone. He knew he was in for a fight just by the use of his proper name.

          He shot Shane a look, asking for help, but the deputy just shook his head and threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

          "No way, Carol. I let you in there, and I'll be the next one to get an arrow in the ass!" T-Dog protested, crossing his arms over his chest.

          "You two are just ridiculous. Daryl wouldn't shoot you, T. Now open the door and let me take this in to our guest." She arched a brow when neither man moved to do her bidding. "If you don't …" she murmured threateningly in a calm tone, "you boys will be eating SPAM for a week!"

          They both made a face loaded with disgust. Shane actually gagged a little. They had an entire case of that stuff which was to be used as a last resort if Daryl couldn't keep them supplied with meat. It was the bane of their existence and neither one of them wanted to be subject to such torture. T snatched the keys off of his belt and moved to the heavy padlock. "That's just dirty pool, woman."

          "Daryl isn't going to like this one bit," Shane protested, blocking the door. "Please make sure you tell him we tried to stop you."

          "Would it make you feel better to come in with me?"

          Both men nodded furiously.

          "Come on then," she sighed. "But keep quiet. Got it?"

          "Dixon's gonna come back from his hunt and shoot us both. Just you wait," T-Dog grumbled as he watched Shane and Carol step into the shed.

          Carol shot Shane a disgusted look when she stepped into the storage shed. The boy was handcuffed on a dirty pallet on the hay-ridden floor, and he flinched away into the corner as they approached. She set the tray on the floor next to Randall, and then pointed to the wall by the door, making it clear to Shane he was to stay there until she was done. He fetched her a stool, and then did as she asked, his hand resting at ease over his service piece.

          Randall watched her warily, not at all sure if the food she'd brought was some kind of trick.

          "Hi, I'm Carol," she smiled. "How are you feeling?"

          "M' leg hurts," he said, still peering up at her from beneath his lashes.

          Carol pulled a bottle of pain medication from the pocket of her jacket and shook out two pills for him to take with the water bottle on the tray. "This will help take the edge off. Hershel says you should be able to put pressure on that leg again in about a week."

          Thankfully, his hands were cuffed in front of him. Though it would be difficult, he would be able to eat by himself. He gratefully took the pills from her as he kept chancing wary glances at Shane by the door.

          She noticed. "You don't have to worry about Shane." She leaned forward and smirked. "It makes him feel better to think he's protecting me."

          Shane clucked his tongue against his teeth disapprovingly. "Carol."

          Carol set the tray over the boy's lap. "You can go ahead and eat. I made it myself. We're not out here to hurt you, Randall."

          He dove at the food and Carol winced. He attacked the bacon and eggs with a vengeance before he began on the oatmeal. All in a matter of a minute. "Fank oo!" he managed.

          "I suppose you left your manners back with your group?"

          Shane snorted.

          "Haven't eaten in about three days," he said, looking ashamed of himself. "Sorry."

          She tsked, feeling bad for him. "We aren't going to let you starve. Have you had it bad out there on the road?" she asked, taking the tray and handing it to Shane.

          The boy nodded, leaning his head back against the wall as he sucked in a deep breath. His stomach roiled, and he knew he shouldn't have eaten so fast. "I'd rather be locked up in here than out there. What does that tell you?"

          "Tell me about your group," she encouraged him.

          He shook his head, looking scared. "No! Soon as I tell you, you're gonna let him kill me," he pointed at Shane.

          "Why you little –"

          "Shane! Step outside, please."

          "Carol –"

          "Now! Five minutes, that's all I ask," she commanded, her eyes chips of blue ice.

          "I'm tellin' Rick!" he grumbled, taking the tray and leaving the spartan room.

          Carol snorted as he stormed out of the shed. "No one is going to hurt you, Randall. At least for now."

          The boy frowned. "Why's he scared of you? Are you their leader or something? I can't see a grown man like him following no woman."

          Carol grinned, more than a little amused. "What a sexist thing to say," she laughed. "No, I'm not the leader." She leaned forward a little, sizing him up. "But I'm about the only one you've got on your side right now. It would be in your best interests to talk to me rather than one of the others. Daryl, in particular, doesn't play well with others."

          He didn't ask who Daryl was. Instead he made up his mind to trust her. "It's m' brother's group. He was up north at Penn State when everything went to hell. This is our hometown, and he was trying to get home. When he finally got here, I was holed up with a few guys in the general store. I worked there." He relaxed a little as she watched him attentively. "He was different after he had to fight his way home. He was cold. I ain't never seen him like that."

          "What's his name?" Rick had mentioned over breakfast what he'd encountered the evening before, including the names of the men who'd drawn on them.

          "Dave." He saw a flash of recognition in her eyes and paled. "He's dead, ain't he? That guy Rick killed him in the bar?"

          Carol bit her lip. "I'm sorry, Randall. Your brother drew on him, and Rick was defending himself."

          Randall banged his head back against the wall as a broken sob escaped his throat. "Maybe it's better this way. At least he won't be like that anymore, and he won't have to fight off those things every day."

          She felt bad for him. It couldn't be easy to see the world change someone you loved. "How was he different?"

          The boy shuddered, lost in his own memories. "He did bad things. He found men to join up with us … men like that guy, Tony, who came down from PA with him. Don't make me tell you, please. I ain't like that, I swear. What they did to those women …"

          The bitter taste of bile rose to scorch the back of her throat. With the breakdown of society, she could well imagine some of the atrocities they might have visited upon who they deemed the weaker sex. "How many are in your group? If you tell me, I might be able to convince the others to be lenient with you."

          "I don't know … I guess about thirty. I wouldn't be surprised if some of them had served time before." Randall crossed his arms over his chest and slumped once more into the corner, resting his head against the wall and closing his eyes. "With my brother gone, maybe it's better I'm a prisoner. I wouldn't want to go back to that group with him not there anymore. It was hard enough staying there at all."

          Carol could see she wouldn't be able to get any more out of him. The pain medication was beginning to affect him, and her time was nearing its end. Daryl would be back any time now and she couldn't take the risk of him finding her there before she had a chance to talk to him. She needed to share her findings with Rick first, however.

          "Try to rest … let that leg heal," she said gently.

          "A-Are you going to come back?" he asked, reaching out to grasp her hand in both of his. His dark eyes were panicked, pleading with her.

          "I'll try, but if not, I'll make sure someone brings you something to eat along with your medication." She smiled. He hadn't gone for any of the weapons on her belt, nor had he tried to threaten her. Perhaps he was truly a victim of circumstance after all.

          She extracted her hand and turned to the door. Daryl was standing there, hands on his hips and his face an unhealthy shade of puce. She was surprised his head hadn't exploded right off the top of his neck. In all her years of marriage, she didn't think she'd ever seen Ed turn that color in his rage. She bit her lip, her eyes settling on his.  _Well. Just. Shit!_

          "Daryl –"

          He cut her off with a fierce look, and held out a hand to her, speaking not a single word. She wondered if he was even capable of speech at the moment. She wasn't afraid of him, knowing he'd never hurt her, and he proved it with his firm but gentle grasp on her wrist. She could feel the fury rolling off him in waves, and she felt a little ashamed of herself for the excitement coiling low in her belly. Lord, what was wrong with her, she thought as he began tugging her past a wide-eyed T-Dog.

          Daryl dragged her behind him, all the way to the stables, flinging open the large double doors one-handed with a strength which should have frightened her. The inside of the stable was dim where he pulled her practically to the middle of the building, stalls lining both sides with the tack room towards the far end. She wrapped her arms around herself as he let her go, his anger causing a tingle of warning to dance along her spine. She couldn't remember ever seeing him so mad, not even when he'd thrown those squirrels at Rick back at the quarry.

          He paced before her, his hands pulling at his hair a moment before he turned that dark smoky gaze on her. "Th' fuck were y' thinkin', woman!?" he growled. "Y' don't know that kid, an' yet y' went in there anyway."

          "I was armed," she muttered defensively.

          Daryl snorted. "An' how quick could he have _dis_ armed y', huh?"

          Her eyes glittered dangerously, quickly tiring of his fury. "I don't know, Dixon. You want to try and find out?" she snapped.

          He stalked over to her, his face inches from hers. "Don't. Test. Me. Woman!"

          "I'm not the same woman I was, Daryl. Because of you! I can handle myself." Her voice was just as loud and angry as his was now. "Why can't you just trust me?"

          To prove a point, he reached for the gun on her hip. She needed to see just how easy it was to be at the mercy of someone stronger than she was, to make her realize she  _wasn't_ as ready as she thought. He couldn't allow her to drop her guard for a second. And he was cursing himself the entire time, thinking he was no better than Ed. He wasn't anticipating her hand coming down hard on his wrist. She spun around and then elbowed him right in the jaw, causing him to stumble from the force. By the time his head cleared, she had the weapon in her palm and was pointing it at him. He felt his blood grow hot, rushing through him at an alarming rate. If she only knew what she was doing to him, she'd run.

          "Fuck!" He glared at her through narrowed eyes. "Safety's still on." He hid his surprise well as he pointed out her mistake.

          Carol arched a brow at him, fighting the smile threatening at her lips. The situation was ridiculous now. "Of course, it is, you silly man. Do you really expect me to point a loaded gun at you without keeping the safety on?" she drawled, holstering her weapon. At least he seemed to have calmed somewhat.

          "I should spank your ass," he mumbled, circling her like a caged tiger. "Teach y' t' stay away from dangerous criminals."

          "You wouldn't," she gasped as another tremor of need gripped her.

          "Yeah? Y' wanna push me, woman? There's a difference between a spankin' and a beatin', y'know." He was on her in a second, backing her against a support beam and pinning her hands at her sides as he pressed his hips into her, holding her in place. "But no," he sighed. "I'd never hurt y' … ever."

          Her eyes darkened, the low burn she'd felt earlier escalating. "Daryl …"

          "What if he'd gotten 'is hands on y', Carol? Y' weren't thinkin'!"

          "I wasn't alone, though, Daryl. T-Dog and Shane were there … well at least until Shane ran off to tattle on me to Rick," she protested.

          "Why can't y' see th' consequences? If somethin' had happened t' y' … you're not th' only one who woulda suffered." Oh, god, she could hear the pain in his voice. There was no hiding it. She could see it in his eyes, and feel it in the thundering of his heart where his chest was pressed to hers. "If y' can't see what it would do t' me … think of Sophia. How is our daughter supposed t' go on without y'?" He dropped his head to her shoulder, letting go of her wrists to curl his arms about her waist. "What if he'd have made a grab for your weapons an' those two idiots wouldn't've been able t' get t' y' in time? Y' cain't put yourself at risk."

          Her fingers carded through his hair, pulling his head back to meet her gaze. "I just wanted to help. You know Rick … he's not going to want to get his hands dirty to force answers out of that boy. He would have asked you to question him and … I'm not going to let him turn you into his  _henchman_!" She whimpered softly as his rough hands skimmed along her thighs, unmistakable heat enveloping her as he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and fisted one hand in his hair, the other in his shirt, dragging him closer to her. "I'm trying to protect you."

          A rumbling growl sounded deep in his chest as he carried her to an empty stall and lowered them both to a pile of fresh hay, kicking the door closed with his booted foot. She was killing him … the old him … the one who knew only pain and despair. Merle had tried to be there to protect him from their father's harsh blows, but Carol dug in much deeper. She wanted to protect his soul. He brought his lips down on hers, unable to rein in his desire, his tongue delving deep, searching out every place inside which made her mewl and gasp beneath him. They hadn't come together like this in days, not since that first time. It was worth it to have Sophia there with them in their tent, safe and secure under his protection, but now they were alone, and he wouldn't let this opportunity to be with her pass them by. It still scared him a bit … this love he felt for her. Yet he craved it, yearned for it like it was necessary to his survival. And in truth, it was.

          Carol's deft fingers worked furiously at his buttons, needing him just as much, it seemed. Her entire body hummed with desire. She could feel that connection which pulsed so powerfully between them. It was soul deep, and permeated her entire being. It made her wonder how she had ever lived so long without this man. She wanted to shout out her triumph when she was finally able to push his shirt off his shoulders and toss it to the side. She didn't waste a moment running her hands over his bare chest and down to the muscled contours of his stomach.

          The animalistic purr emanating from him merely fueled her lust as she hooked her heel behind his knee and pushed at his shoulders, rolling them so she was straddling his hips. She moaned deep in her throat as she ground herself against his rigid length. His pupils were blown wide, caught up in the wave of pleasure they were tossed upon. He sat up, burying his face against the sweet curve of her throat as he pushed her jacket off her shoulders and unbuttoned her shirt enough to pull it over her head. He stared in dismay at the tank she wore beneath it.

          "Christ, woman! Why y' gotta wear so many layers?" he grumbled, ridding her of the offending garment as she went to work on the button on his jeans and slid his thick leather belt through the loops.

          It was growing cooler as autumn approached, but she didn't have the presence of mind to explain. She burned for him, needed him so badly, she could already feel the throb deep in her core. He'd chased away her fear of sex, and awoken a beast within her, longing for the pleasure only he could give her. She keened as he pulled the lacey cup down on her bra, not bothering to remove it, and took her deep in his mouth. She stopped trying to get him out of his pants and simply held on, her arms tight around his head to hold him in place.

          She was wild in his arms, unable to control the sensations spiraling through her. Even when his hands went to her hips, gripping her tightly to still her, she fought him. Damnit, she needed him and didn't want to wait. "S-Stop teasing me, Daryl!" she cried as he rolled them, trapping her beneath his body, his hips pressing her into the hay. "I need you."

          Tossing her belt to the side, he yanked her jeans and underwear down her legs in one fell swoop before he rid himself of his own. There was no stopping him, the animal inside answering the call of its mate. Her back arched, a sweet little mewl falling from her parted lips as he pushed into her with all the gentleness she'd come to expect from him. She could only imagine what his patience was costing him. She felt the breath leave him in a whoosh as his brow came to rest against hers, sharing that one perfect moment of their bodies coming together.

          Carol brushed the hair out of his eyes, her hips rising to meet his as he began to move within her. It wasn't tender and slow as their first time had been, but raw and carnal, a bone deep ache to find something only the other could give. Her nails left red streaks across his chest, over his sides to his hips where they dug into his flesh, and she reveled at the sounds he made. She held his gaze, pulling her legs higher up on his waist, her walls pulling him deeper.

          "Daryl …"

          "I know." His pace quickened, his control shattered, fire crackling along his nerve endings. He knew … he could see. It was more than sex, more than lust, more than mutual pleasure. What they shared was timeless, ageless, and bigger than anything either of them could have dreamed possible. "Mine!"

          She trembled, clinging tighter to him as she crested the wave and fell into the shallows, dragging him right along with her as they both moaned from the sweet ecstasy of it all. Carol wouldn't let him go, needing his warm weight. She was spent, her heart aching with what she felt for him. Words would never be enough to convey just how much she loved him.

          Daryl panted against her shoulder, his eyes too heavy to open. "Say it. I need to hear you say it, woman."

          "I'm yours," she breathed.

          "Not that." He cracked his eyes open and grinned up at her.

          She returned it eagerly as he raised up on his arms to kiss her deeply. "I love you."

          He rolled onto his back, pulling her with him until she was draped across his chest. "Love y' too. Y' know that, right?"

          "I know, Daryl."

          He laid his arm over his eyes as he fought with his heart to return to a normal beat, frowning as she slipped away from him to dress. She'd barely got her jeans back on before his arm slipped around her waist, pulling her back down to his side. "I meant what I said before, Carol. No more risks."

          "I'm not going to let you coddle me. It goes both ways, Daryl … I can't lose you either.  _Any_  part of you," she said, ignoring his scowl.

          He reached for his jeans, yanking them on over his legs as he rose to his feet. "I ain't arguin' with y'."

          "Wonderful! Because it won't do you a bit of good." She tossed him his shirt. "Come on, we need to go talk to Rick."

          Daryl hopped after her, pulling his boots on as he tried to follow her out of the stall. He nearly face-planted before he caught his balance. "Hey! Where th' hell y' goin'? We ain't done, woman!"

          She shot him a wicked smirk over her shoulder. "I sure hope not."

          He shivered as he realized she wasn't talking about their argument.

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol waved to the children where they stood atop the RV on watch duty. She was so proud of them for taking on such a responsibility, one they actually quite enjoyed. At least she and Lori didn't have to worry about getting into trouble for those four hours every afternoon. She could hear Daryl bounding after her over the dirt path which led into the front yard, not bothering to keep his steps light as he hurried after her. She figured it would be a while before he allowed her out of his sight after the stunt she'd pulled that morning. She still didn't believe she'd done anything wrong. But try telling  _him_  that.

          Rick was on the porch with Shane, apparently waiting for her. He thundered down the steps when she drew closer, his face a mask of worry. "Where have you been? We were worried sick when we couldn't find you."

          He was probably worried he'd have to eat Maggie's cooking, she thought dryly. "I'm fine. Daryl and I were in the stables … talking."

          "What were you thinking?! Going in there with that kid. He could have hurt you, and –"

          Daryl pulled her behind him. "Don't y' talk t' her like that!" he snarled, his lip curled into a sneer. "Y' ain't got no right, Rick."

          He took a step back. "She put herself in danger, Daryl. I don't want to see any of our group harmed. What she did was reckless."

          Carol pinched the bridge of her nose to stave off some of the pressure building behind her eyes. "Enough!" she hissed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I've already been through this with Daryl. I'm not going to defend my actions to you, too. I brought food and pain medication to our prisoner. We are still human beings, Rick, and we will act accordingly."

          Daryl backed down, but Rick looked as if she'd slapped him. Shane, for once, was holding his silence. "I'm sorry, Carol. It's just … you mean so much to this group. I'd hate to see something happen to you. It would kill Lori, I know."

          Her lips softened into a smile. She hadn't realized before that moment just how much they cared. "I just wanted to talk to him. Shane and T-Dog were there to make sure nothing bad happened to me."

          Shane snorted. "Stubborn woman. You should've left it to us."

          "Why? Because you're a man?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "Didn't you tell me you questioned him this morning? Tell us, Shane … how much information did he give you?"

          Shane's swarthy face flooded with color as he glared at her.

          "Daryl, you can't approve of her going in there," Rick frowned.

          The hunter shot him a quelling glance. "An' if I'd've been here, she wouldn't have!"

          Carol glared at him, threw her hands up in exasperation and stormed up the front steps. There was no talking to them when they were so confrontational. Right then, she didn't care if they all beat the crap out of each other on the front lawn. "When the three of you decide to stop measuring your dicks out here, I'll be in the kitchen," she snapped, channeling her inner Merle.

          She left them there, gaping with open mouths at her retreating back.

          Daryl tightened his grip on the strap of the crossbow.

          Rick rubbed tiredly at the back of his neck.

          Shane shook his head. "That little woman has fire. What the hell have you done with the meek little lady we met at the quarry?"

          The hunter smirked. "I made her a Dixon."

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol shot Lori a tight smile as the brunette poured a glass of lemonade and handed it to her. "Uh-oh, I know that look. What have our men done now?"

          "They're acting like a bunch of cavemen. Next, they'll be clubbing us atop the head and dragging us off to their tents," she growled, draining half the glass with a satisfied moan. "Where'd you get the lemons for this? I can't remember the last time I had fresh squeezed lemonade."

          "There are a few trees in the orchard behind the house. Apples and peaches, too." She leaned against the counter next to her friend, tilting her head to the side. "So … you going to tell me what's wrong? It's about time you come to me with your problems seeing as I'm always running to you with mine."

          Carol rolled her head, wincing when her neck popped. Finally, she sighed. "They're all up in arms because I went out to talk to our prisoner this morning. I mean, the boy was handcuffed, I was armed, and T-Dog and Shane were there if I'd have needed them."

          "Ok … I don't see what their problem is besides being a bunch of sexist pigs. They've been training us to defend ourselves for over a week. Do they have no faith in our skills now?"

          Carol smirked. "I think the apocalypse is bringing out their feral side. They want to play cavemen and protect us women."

          Lori snickered behind her hand. "I dunno. I wouldn't mind seeing Rick in a loincloth."

          "Lori!"

          "Is it safe t' come in, or are y' plottin' our murders?" Daryl asked from the doorway, Shane and Rick flanking him.

          Carol shook her head and waved them into the room. "Are the three of you ready to discuss this calmly now?"

          They took a seat at the table while Lori poured them all something to drink. "We'd really like to know what Randall told you this morning," Rick said, sitting back in his chair.

          Carol went to the fridge and pulled out some leftover chicken to make a sandwich for Daryl, knowing he'd missed breakfast and lunch. "That man you killed yesterday … Dave? He was Randall's brother. It was his group. He loved his brother, and is mourning his death, but the boy is rather relieved he doesn't have to go back to them. Those men are dangerous."

          Shane's mouth dropped. "He told you that?! He wouldn't tell us  _anything_  when we questioned him."

          Carol shrugged as she set the plate down in front of Daryl and then took a seat beside him. "What can I say? I'm easy to talk to."

"What else did 'e say, woman?" Daryl asked around a mouth full of his sandwich.

          "That group consists of about thirty men … no women, and no children. You killed four last night, and took Randall prisoner, but I don't think those remaining will come looking for him."

          "What makes you say that?" Shane leaned forward, leveling her with his stare.

          "Because he's not like them. Question is … what are we going to do with him?"

          Rick sighed. "When he's recovered enough, we'll take him out to the main road, give him a canteen and some provisions and send him on his way."

          Lori frowned at her husband. "Isn't that the same as offering him up to the walkers as a tasty meal?"

          "Well 'e can't stay here!" Daryl growled, pushing his empty plate aside. "We can't trust he won't try t' murder us all in our sleep."

          Shane folded his hands on the table, his brows drawing together. "We could take him out, maybe a town over, and drop him off."

          Carol clucked her tongue in disapproval. "Once again, you want to offer him up as a walker snack. No. We're not going to do that."

          "Carol –"

          She cut off Rick's protest and rose to her feet. "No, Rick. How can we really trust anyone now? When Shane formed this group out there on the highway, how could he trust any of us? Where would we be if he hadn't taken a chance?"

          "Woman!"

          She ignored Daryl's soft reprimand to be quiet. "What would have happened to us if he hadn't later allowed Daryl and Merle to join us? I'll tell you where'd I'd be … dead! And my daughter would have been left with Ed. In order to survive in this world, we need people. We need to give him a chance. If he proves he can't be trustworthy, then I won't argue if you send him away. I'll take responsibility for him."

          "Like hell y' will!"

          "Carol," Lori protested, giving her hand a squeeze. "You can't do that. Do you really want him around Sophia?"

          "I want him to have a chance." She met Shane's eyes over the table. "You gave Daryl a chance. This boy is no different. I know it."

          Rick drummed his fingers on the table, deep in thought. "He'd have to be watched if we let him out."

          Daryl stood so abruptly, his chair banged against the wall. "I cain't believe you're even considerin' this!"

          Rick's determined gaze lifted to meet Daryl head on. "Carol's right. We need people. Our numbers are small, and we need them to grow. I'm not saying it's going to be easy, but if this boy proves himself, that's just one more person to help protect us."

          "Y'all are fuckin' crazy."

          "Daryl," Carol murmured softly, using that tone she reserved to soothe him. "It's not like I'm planning to move him into our tent. He can spend the day helping me with chores and at night he can be locked in the shed. We can explain to him it has to be like this at first."

          He radiated anger like a thousand suns. He knew she could feel it, but the hand he lifted to cup her cheek was gentle. "I don't like this, Carol. I don't want that boy nowhere near you or Soph."

          "I know, but this is the best choice … the _right_ choice."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next time: A proposition, Merle gets a new weapon, and two lives are joined.


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter Forty-Two

 

          Carol bit her lip as Daryl flopped down onto his bedroll and turned on his side away from her. He hadn't showered or changed – he usually didn't when she didn't drag him off to bathe with her – and she could feel the tension radiating from him. She set her book aside now that he'd lowered the flame on the lantern and left only the soft moonlight filtering in through the screens for illumination. This mood he was in had gone on long enough. "Pookie, it's been a week. How much longer are you going to sulk?" she sighed, keeping her voice low so as not to wake Sophia. "Is this a Dixon trait, or did you take a class on how to be a first-class baby?"

          Daryl rolled enough to glare at her over her shoulder. "You're an asshole!"

          Carol rolled her eyes. For a week now, Randall had shadowed her every step on the pair of worn crutches Hershel had loaned him. In the next day or so, he'd finally be able to put pressure on his leg. It would give him more freedom, but he would still be her responsibility. So far, the boy had proved to be a good worker. He was limited in what he could do, but at least he was trying. He hadn't even complained about what others would have deemed women's work.

          Rick and Shane had found a generator abandoned in one of the houses on the outskirts of town while out on a run – to add to the two Hershel already had in use – and had carted it back to the farm. Hershel and Dale had repaired it and run a line to the washing machine, so Carol wouldn't have to scrub their clothes by hand any longer. Daryl had seemed pleased her workload had been lessened … until he noticed Randall stuck right there with her and Sophia, hanging it on the lines. When she prepared dinner, he was the first to jump in and help with the prep work. When she helped Maggie clean the old farmhouse, the boy reverted to one crutch, so he could help with the dusting.

          Even when Carol and Lori sat down to lessons with the children, Randall was right there at her side. He had little choice since the men wouldn't allow him to help with their own work. Carol was the only one willing to give him a chance. Everything the boy did seemed to make Daryl angry, but he wouldn't talk to her about it. He held his brooding silence and let it fester like a cankerous boil. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was jealous. And through everything, he was never far, his eyes always watching the boy, just waiting for him to screw up and pull a knife on one of them.

          She flopped down on her back and brushed a stray tear from the corner of her eye. "Well, it's better than being a jackass," she mumbled into her pillow.

          He huffed as he turned over onto his back and glowered up at the canvas ceiling of the tent. He couldn't mistake the uneven breath she took, nor the slight shaking of her shoulders as she turned away from him. "Y' knew that when I took y' in," he muttered lamely.

          She just wasn't used to him turning that Dixon temper on her. "Are you going to be like this every time we disagree on something, Daryl?"

          "Why? Y' got another hair-brained scheme brewin' in that head o' yours?"

          At least, he was talking to her now. That was progress, wasn't it? "Not at the moment." She really hated to bring it up, but it needed to be addressed so they could move past it. "He's doing well, Daryl."

          "Don'tcha even  _think_  about tellin' me 'I toldja so', Carol," he growled in warning as he pulled one of his hands from behind his head and began gnawing on the rough skin around his thumbnail.

          "I wouldn't do that!"

          He snorted. "All women love t' tell their men that."

          "And you should realize by now that I'm  _not_  most women!" she hissed angrily. She rose to her knees and chanced a quick glance over at her daughter before she turned her icy gaze on him. "You're just angry because he's doing everything we ask and not causing a bit of trouble. Did you ever think maybe he just needed to be around people who treat him well? We don't know what he had to endure with that other group, but I know it was bad. I see the look in his eyes when he thinks no one is looking. He's haunted by it. You won't even try to give him a chance because you see him as a threat."

          "He was shootin' at Rick and Glenn, Carol!"

          "Because he didn't have a choice!"

          Sophia shot them a squinty-eyed glare. "Are y'all splitting up? Because I'm so not going to do the joint custody thing," she grumbled, pulling her pillow over her head.

          "Go back t' sleep, baby girl," Daryl said, blushing at being caught fighting with her mother.

          "I would if you weren't so loud."

          Daryl reached out and took Carol's hand, pulling her up with him. "We'll be jus' outside, Soph. Try t' get some sleep." Now that he and Carol were talking, he didn't want to stop. They needed to get past their problems, and there was no reason for their daughter to suffer for it.

          Sophia yawned. "Okay. G'nite, Dad. 'Night, Mama."

          Carol winced as her bare feet encountered the pebbles strewn throughout the dirt just outside their tent, but didn't let it bother her too much as he came out behind her. He'd slung the crossbow over his back, and held her flat house shoes in one hand. She noticed he'd taken the time to pull his boots on and grab the poncho he kept folded near their bedroll. She was wishing she'd brought her jacket out with her when he dropped the warm garment over her head.

          Daryl led her off, not far from their tent to where his motorcycle was parked under one of the great oaks. They would still be able to keep watch over Sophia while she slept. He let her go, and shoved his hands into his pockets. His chin dropped to his chest, and he sighed heavily. He looked so distraught, she thought. Much more than usual. Was he regretting his actions of the past week and just didn't know how to get past it?

          "Daryl –"

          "I'm sorry," he whispered, shooting her a quick glance from beneath his lashes. "I told y' I ain't good with this sort o' thing."

          Carol took a step closer to him, needing the heat emanating from him. The moon shone down on them brightly, filtering through the leaves above, and the night held the slight chill of early autumn. "Talk to me. It hurts so much when you shut me out."

          He winced, wishing he could run from the pain in her eyes. The same pain he'd had to look at every day because of his stubborn refusal to talk to her. "I never meant t' hurt y'. Jus' figured it would be easier to keep m' mouth shut than take th' chance o' sayin' somethin' I'd regret, somethin' that would make y' leave."

          Carol smiled, the first genuine smile in days. "I didn't know you had that much restraint, Dixon."

          "Stop. I'm tryin' t' be serious here."

          "Sorry. Go on," she encouraged him.

          He raked a frustrated hand through his hair and dropped down to the grass, leaning back against the bike. When he looked up, she was sitting beside him, a patient expression on her face. "There's only three people in this world I care about, Carol … you, Merle an' Sophia. I've already lost one. I can't stand th' thought o' losing you an' our girl, too. What if … what if he's playin' y'? Bidin' his time until we let our guard down?" He dropped his gaze to his lap.

          She slipped her hand into his and twined their fingers, needing that small connection. "You've been torturing yourself over this. Daryl, you have to trust me. I know evil men. God knows I've been around enough of them. Trust my judgment." She leaned in closer and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. "I'm not going to leave you," she whispered fervently.

          Daryl swallowed heavily around the lump in his throat. "Why?" he choked out. "I ain't got no real claim on y'. Y' could leave if y' wanted, an' there ain't nothin' I could do t' stop y'."

          Her heart thrummed loudly against her chest. Even with the progress he'd made, he was still capable of spiraling down into the ghosts of his past. "What are you saying, Daryl? I'm yours. What more do you want?" she asked, her eyes bright as they locked with his. She brought her hand to the scruff on his jaw, her thumb brushing gently against his cheekbone. She hated to see him struggling so hard to put his feelings into words, but she wasn't a mind reader. He was going to have to learn to talk to her.

          He dug into his pocket, pulling out the keys to the bike. Carol looked down, a puzzled frown marring her smooth brow, confused. Quickly he worked something off the ring and held it out to her. "This belonged to my Aunt Corrine. She wore it every day o' her life. Never took it off after Uncle Drew put it on her finger. That's what I want, Carol. I want people t' look at y' and  _know_  you're mine, t'  _know_  you're m' wife. I don't wanna pretend no more."

          She crawled right onto his lap without the slightest hesitation and wrapped her arms around him, her lips at his ear. "Yes!" She would have said more, but his arms crushed her to his chest, leaving her breathless and incapable of speech. "Can't breathe …"

          Daryl eased his grip, letting her pull away enough so he could claim her lips, sliding his tongue along the seam until she let him in. It was slow and tender, his fingers delving into her short hair to hold her in place. His brow came to rest against hers when the need for air was overwhelming. "Love you."

          "I love you, too. Don't shut me out anymore, Daryl."

          "I won't … promise."

          "I missed you," she said softly, brushing his hair away from his eyes. It had grown out quite a bit since the quarry.

          He kissed her again, but kept it short and sweet. He couldn't carry her off to their tent and ravish her with Sophia there. It would have to wait, but he found he could exert some patience for her. "I don't want no big weddin' either, woman."

          "I didn't think you would," she hummed, nestling against his chest. "I don't either. We only need Sophia as a witness. She'd never speak to us again if we left her out."

          "Which means Carl will have t' be there too. They're joined at th' hip or somethin'," he grumbled.

          "I don't have a ring for you," she mumbled forlornly.

          Daryl jingled the keys still in his hand. "I have Uncle Drew's ring too. They're a set. Makes me glad Merle thought t' put them on 'is keyring. If you'd've asked either of us a month ago if we thought we'd ever use 'em, th' answer woulda been no."

          Carol felt a bit of panic as he slipped hers back onto the keyring before she'd really had a chance to look at it. "What are you doing?"

          "Safe keepin' 'til tomorrow," he grinned.

          She brought her lips back to his, kissing him deeply. "Tomorrow …"

 

*.*.*

 

          He knew he'd find her up there. Lately, anytime she felt stressed, she'd disappear up to the roof of their apartment building where she'd devised a makeshift workshop to work out her frustrations. Merle licked his dry lips as he stood at the top of the metal ladder and watched her. He'd grown too close to her. Now he found himself worrying constantly about her well-being, her safety. He'd never thought he'd allow anyone into his heart, but she'd crept in and refused to leave. He knew he wasn't easy to live with. He was a mean bastard … but not with her. Their physical relationship had grown into something much more profound, and frankly, his feelings terrified him. He didn't think he could live with himself if anything happened to Martine. Shit had a tendency to get deep when his head wasn't clouded with narcotics.

          Merle shook his head. This was all Sophia's fault. She was the one who had gotten into his head and convinced him he could be better. His appreciative gaze swept over his woman. At least he could admit to himself she was his. Let someone even think about laying hands on her. He'd show them right quick what it was like to mess with a Dixon. Marty was so much like him. She was quick to temper, fierce, and she didn't take any shit from anyone. Maybe it was good she spent most of their downtime in her workshop and away from Blake. He didn't like the way that bastard watched her.

          "Y' gonna stand there starin' at m' ass all day, Merle? Or are y' gonna come on up?" she asked without turning to look at him.

          He sighed and ascended the last few steps, hauling himself over the low wall and onto the roof. "Came t' get y' for supper," he said, making his way over to her, his arms wrapping loosely around her from behind. He rested his chin on her shoulder, frowning down at her project. "Th' hell is that, woman?"

          "I'm … uh … makin' somethin' for you, actually."

          He sat down on the stool there at the table he'd dragged up four flights of stairs for her, trying to make out just what she was making. "For me?"

          Marty's eyes flickered over to the sleeve of his leather jacket, her brows drawn together in a deep frown. Deep grooves marred the leather where a walker had tried to take a bite out of his arm. She couldn't remember ever being more afraid in her entire life, and she'd had plenty of reason to be scared over the course of her young existence. "Take your jacket off for me."

          Merle shrugged out of it and laid it across the table, still watching her with avid curiosity.

          She held up the two pieces of polished steel she'd worked into what looked like a cuff which would cover his arm from wrist to elbow. "It's not finished yet. I want to make one for each of your arms," she said, taking his right arm and fitting the cuff to it. Once she had the leather straps secured, it did well to hide the scars on his wrist from that ill-fated run to Atlanta.

          He nodded. "So, this is t' protect me … like armor?"

          "Not quite." Marty showed him what looked to be an open mechanism along the side with gears and springs. She reached for the short bayonet resting on the table and secured it in place before fitting a metal cover over it and locking it down with four screws. "Rotate your wrist. Is it too tight? It's not like I had y' up here to do a fittin'. I had to guess."

          "Y' made a concealed weapon? Damn, girl, how'd y' learn t' do this?" he asked, studying the device. There was a little button on the side of the raised housing for the bayonet. She jumped back as he pressed it and the blade sprang forward.

          "Careful, you ass! Y' tryin' t' gut me or somethin'!?" she snarled. "Daddy taught me how t' work with metal. Like a hobby. It was easy."

          "What made y' wanna do this?" he asked carefully. He didn't like the guarded look in her eyes. She shrugged and went back to work on the cuff for his left arm. "Talk t' me, Sugar."

          "Thought it might come in handy, s'all."

          "Martine."

          She sighed and stabbed the flat tip screwdriver into the rough-hewn surface of the old wooden table. Her eyes flashed hotly as she met his gaze, her stomach twisting with dread. "I'm tryin' t' protect y'! What woulda happened if y' hadn't been wearin' your jacket, Merle?  _If_  y' woulda been able t' get away, we'd've been cuttin' your arm off!"

          And if he hadn't been so worried about her safety, he wouldn't have let his guard down enough for that walker to get so close. His hands came to rest on her hips, yanking her forward to stand in the vee of his legs. She pushed feebly against his chest, but his grip was secure. "Stop yer wigglin' an' listen t' me, woman. Y' know there's a risk every time we leave these walls. Y' want me t' join th' knittin' circle an' stay here all th' time actin' like an ol' lady?"

          "No," she said petulantly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I just wanted t' make somethin' for y'. A little added protection cain't hurt, y'know." She ducked her head sheepishly. "Y' like it?"

          "I do." He tipped her chin up and kissed her softly.

          "I still want t' leave this place. I don't like th' way Blake stares at me, Merle. He's a creepy fucker."

          His teeth gnashed together, the muscle in his cheek ticking with the force of the pressure. "That why y' been spendin' so much time up here?"

          She nodded, rolling her neck to get some of the kinks out from being bent over her work for so long. "Outta sight, outta mind, right? I jus' hope he don't get wind o' where I go when I ain't on watch. I wouldn't want 'im t' catch me up here alone."

          "Things are comin' together. Jus' a little longer," he tried to reassure her. He'd kill the bastard outright – plans be damned – if he laid a hand on her. And that's if Marty didn't gut him first.

          "Y' still haven't talked t' Daryl."

          Merle sighed. "We're due t' leave on that run in th' mornin'."

          "Did y' pick the team yet?" she asked curiously.

          "Me, you, Martinez, Ford, Ty, an' the twitchy girl with the pigtails."

          "Rosita," she chuckled.

          "Yeah, her. I ain't never seen anyone with such a twitchy trigger finger, but she's a good little soldier. She ain't too fond of the governor either," he remarked casually. "We make a good team. They're gonna make takin' this place easy."

          Marty narrowed her eyes on him. "Who's th' holdout?"

          "Martinez. He's gettin' there though." He took her hand and tugged her over to the door which led to the stairwell on the inside of their building. If they didn't show for dinner, Blake would surely question it. "He sees some of Blake's underhanded tactics, and it's wearin' on 'im."

          "What about Daryl. He still needs t' know what's goin' on, Merle."

          He grinned. "I know where he is. Hopefully, I'll be able t' talk t' him this time when I go out t' th' farm."

          "I still don't know why y' didn't do it last time."

          "I don't want none o' them other fuckers around when I see my family, Sugar. Too many complications. Especially Rick Grimes." It was going to take a lot of willpower he wasn't so sure he possessed not to kill him.

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl watched as the first rays of dawn tinted the sky. The screens had been left open last night, the cool air easing the stuffiness of the tent. When it got colder, he was going to have to find a way to insulate them more. He'd never minded the cold, but Carol and Sophia weren't used to frigid temperatures. Sleep had eluded him after he and Carol had bedded down for the night. He was still in awe he'd had the balls to share his feelings with her. If Merle had heard some of the words spewing out of his mouth, he'd never hear the end of it.

          Carol was going to be his wife … today! He felt nearly giddy at the thought. Not a feeling he'd had much in his life. Marriage had never been something he'd wanted for himself after seeing the failure his parent's relationship had been. Frankly, he couldn't ever remember such a rush of happiness before she'd come into his life. It was better than any high or state of drunkenness his brother had experienced in the past as Merle had fought his demons, he was sure. He glanced down at his woman where she was half sprawled over his chest, and grinned, dropping a kiss to her crown.

          His gaze fell on Sophia as she pushed herself off her pillow and sat up with a groan. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and yawned before stretching her arms over her head. "Dad," she whispered, "it's time to get up."

          "We ain't goin' huntin' this mornin'."

          Her eyes widened. They always went hunting. It was part of their daily routine. "Um … why?" she asked, clearly confused.

          Daryl chuckled. "Got somethin' else t' do this mornin'. Why don't y' go make some coffee. Glenn's on watch, and I'm sure he'd appreciate it jus' as much as I would."

          "Who's turn is it to cook breakfast this morning?" She yawned again as she reached for her jeans and pulled them on under her blanket. "Mama cooked yesterday."

          "I dunno. Jus' hope it ain't Lori," he grumbled. "She burned th' eggs last time."

          Sophia wrinkled her nose. "Don't remind me. She's been so sick lately, she keeps having to run off into the bushes. I hope she gets better soon."

          "Me too, kid. Least while she's on kitchen duty."

          She laughed just as Carl stuck his head through the tent flap, his bow and quiver slung over his back. "Hey … uh … Daryl, why aren't you ready? Are you sick?" he asked, staring at the hunter with wide worried eyes.

          "Naw, boy, I'm good. Jus' got somethin' goin' on this mornin'. Go help Soph with breakfast."

          Carl brightened. "What kind of something? Do me and Sophia get to help? Is it dangerous?"

          "Boy, get your ass outta m' tent!" He snorted. "Dangerous," he mumbled to himself as he watched Sophia follow her friend out into the camp. "As if I'd put those kids in danger."

          Carol stretched up and pressed her lips to the sensitive spot below his ear. "Course you wouldn't, Pookie," she drawled sleepily.

          Daryl rolled his eyes, grinning as he rolled her beneath him to kiss her good morning. Of late, it was his favorite way to start the day. Her arms locked around his neck as she tried to deepen the kiss, but he was having none of that just yet.

          She sighed as he hefted himself up to his knees and reached for his cargo pants. "You know it's going to drive them crazy wondering what you have planned for today."

          He gathered up his kit and a change of clothes, setting them beside him as he pulled on his boots. "I know," he chuckled. "And don't y' go givin' nothin' away. Carl finds out, an' it'll be all over th' camp in five minutes flat. We don't need th' rest o' those busy bodies standin' there gawkin' at us."

          She frowned as he lifted his bow, the bundle of clothes tucked under his arm. "Where are you going? You haven't even had your coffee yet."

          "Shower. Don't worry, woman, I won't be long."

 

*.*.*

 

          He'd been true to his word. It hadn't taken him long at all to shower in the downstairs bathroom of the old farmhouse. He'd been in and out just as the household was beginning to stir for the day. Maggie slipped out ahead of him with a hasty 'good morning', but he didn't follow her to the camp where she would be joining Glenn for coffee. He had other plans, instead taking a well-worn path down to the pond.

          Daryl knelt down there by the water's edge where he'd spied several bushes blooming with Cherokee roses. They would make a lovely bouquet for his soon-to-be wife. Gawd! He felt like a first-class sap! He could actually hear his brother's laughter loud and clear in the back of his mind. But he also knew this would make Carol happy. What was the loss of his dignity compared to that?

          How was he even going to do this wedding thing, he thought miserably. He was no good at this sort of thing. Maybe he could just follow her lead, and pray his tongue wouldn’t get all twisted in a knot when it came to his vows. Fuck! What was he even supposed to say? This was going to be an epic disaster; he just knew it.

          He could already feel the heat rising in his face, his ears burning as he made his way back to camp. His palms were sweating, his heart thumping madly, and his fingers tight around the little bouquet he'd tied with a bit of twine he'd found in his pocket. All of them would know something was amiss just from the sight of him. He'd scrubbed himself thoroughly, not a trace of dirt or grime on his skin, his clothes were clean – some of the least worn he owned – and he'd even gone so far as to trim his goatee and knock the caked-on mud off his boots. Very un-Daryl-like behavior.

          Of course, the entire camp was now gathered around the fire, enjoying coffee with their eggs and grits. He was ready to flee into the woods until he spotted Carol, a bright smile on her lips. Just like that, his panic subsided and the rings in his pocket didn't feel like hot coals burning a hole through his pants anymore.

          T-Dog broke out into a grin as Daryl neared, nudging Glenn who sat next to him. "And the man comes bearing flowers," he drawled. "Lookin' good, Dixon. Got a hot date?"

          "Shut up," he growled, feeling his face grow hotter under the group's scrutiny. He ignored them all, holding the flowers out to his woman.

          Carol's eyes twinkled merrily as she took the bouquet from him. She was breathtaking in her happiness, her skin seeming to glow in the dappled sunlight. Her jeans were freshly laundered and her boots free of mud, but it was the peasant blouse she wore which caught his eye. It was white, fitting for the occasion, the bodice drawing his eyes to the swell of her breasts. "Daryl, these are beautiful," she cooed softly, pressing her lips to his cheek. She knew he abhorred public displays of affection, but she simply wasn't able to contain herself that morning. "Thank you."

          "Y' finished here?" he asked, focusing on her.

          "Mhmm. Did you want to eat first?"

          He huffed out a nervous breath. "Don't think I could hold it down, t' be honest." He twined his fingers with hers and sought out their daughter. "Sophia, come on."

          The girl had a puzzled frown etched upon her brow, but she didn't question him. She tugged on the sleeve of Carl's flannel shirt and rose from her seat on the log to follow her parents towards the edge of camp.

          "Where're we going?" Carl whispered so only she could hear.

          Sophia shrugged.

          Daryl led Carol to stand under one of the oaks, the morning sunlight creating a warm glow around them as it filtered down through the leaves. He felt as if he were choking, which was an impossibility with his open collar.

          She rested a hand over his chest, and could feel the thundering of his heart. "Breathe, Daryl. It's ok; just breathe."

          He felt some of his tension drain away as he got lost in her smile. "Y' know I suck at this," he mumbled, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing the rings he'd already removed from the keyring.

          He placed his in the palm of her hand, and she couldn't help but marvel over the shiny obsidian metal so cool to the touch. It was perfect for him. Only a Dixon would want to wear a ring such as this, elegant and understated, but no less beautiful. She glanced up at him shyly, just as nervous as he was. "Do you want me to go first?"

          Daryl shook his head as he sucked in a deep calming breath. Finally, he lifted his gaze to hers. "No. No, I wanna do this."

          Sophia and Carl shared a look, huge smiles blooming on their lips. It was all she could do not to bounce up and down she was so filled with excitement.

          Daryl took Carol's left hand in his, holding on tightly as if she might change her mind at any moment and flee. "Carol … um … " He bit his lip, trying to gather his thoughts. "I ain't never been good with feelings, but y' know I love y'. More than anyone I've ever known. I want t' spend m' life makin' y' happy. You've already given me so much … your love, your trust …" He winked at Sophia. "A daughter." The words were coming much easier now, which surprised him. "I let y' in, an' it changed me … for th' better. I promise t' always love y', protect y', an' keep y' safe as long as I draw breath. If you'll have me."

          Tears streamed over Carol's flushed cheeks which she didn't bother to wipe away. "I will," she vowed.

          Daryl finally smiled, feeling a weight lift from him. Slowly, he slid the ring onto her finger. It was the same black metal, but in a filigree style, tiny white pearls seemingly woven throughout. She was only able to admire it for a moment before it was her turn.

          "Oh, Daryl, I love you. You changed me too, also for the better. It's amazing how love can change a person. You've saved me in so many ways." She handed Sophia her bouquet and balanced the ring on his finger, his calloused hand warm in hers. "You showed me I could be strong, and that I could trust you with my heart. You're my best friend, my partner, and my lover. And now you've given me the best gift of all … yourself. I'm so proud to be able to call you husband." Her voice broke and her lip trembled, but she was determined to tell him what was in her heart. "I will forever love you and cherish you, Daryl. I will keep you and comfort you until death … if you'll have me."

          He had to clear his throat several times in order to find his voice. "I will."

          Carol slid the ring onto his finger where it would rest snugly, hopefully for years to come. Daryl pulled her into his arms, her hands sliding softly over his chest and pressed his lips to hers. He poured every ounce of love he possessed into that one simple gesture, reveling in the feel of her body flush with his and the knowledge she was truly and irrevocably bound to him. That connection between them, that fire and balance he'd only ever felt with her, was stronger than ever.

          When he pulled away, the children tackled them, shouting out their congratulations. He wasn't prepared for the applause from the group who'd followed out of curiosity and were standing around with mixed expressions ranging from surprise to downright tears.

          Sophia still had her little arms wrapped around his waist as he draped an arm about her shoulders. "I love you, Daddy."

          He dropped a kiss to the top of her golden head before Rick and T-Dog crowded in to shake his hand. "Why didn't you tell us, man?"

          "Congratulations, Daryl. It's a joy to see such happiness, especially with the way the world is now," Rick said sincerely. "I'm so happy for you."

          Lori was crying, Andrea was in a mild state of shock, and Maggie was gushing. "When did you plan this, Carol?" Lori asked, hugging her warmly. "I would have helped you!"

          "I can't believe you didn't tell us," Andrea scolded, waiting for her turn to hug the bride.

          Carol groaned inwardly. "Daryl just proposed last night. I didn't tell you because you know what a private man he is. We wanted something simple, and I could just imagine how the three of you would have blown it way out of proportion."

          "It's your  _wedding_ , Carol," Andrea said, laughing through her exasperation. "It's supposed to be special."

          Carol bit her lip, a dreamy light in her azure eyes. "It was. It couldn't have been more perfect."

          "This calls for a celebration," Maggie chimed in. "I'm going to ask Daddy if we can slaughter one of the pigs and have ourselves a feast." She dragged Glenn off towards the house to do just that before Carol could protest.

          Dale clapped Daryl on the shoulder, much to the hunter's dismay and then hugged Carol. "I always had a feeling about you two. Good job, son."

          "Who knew Dixon had it in him," Shane said. Daryl rolled his eyes, but shook the man's hand anyway.

          The good wishes went on for a while before Daryl was able to finally have his bride all to himself, pulling her along after him as he set off towards the barn. "And this is why I wanted it t' be just us."

          Carol smiled against his lips as he pulled her into a kiss. "I'm proud of you, Pookie."

          "Why?"

          "Well … you didn't run, you didn't start a fight, and …"

          He frowned bemusedly. "And what?"

          "And you didn't shoot anyone."

          "Not funny, woman."

          Her laughter echoed across the wide lawn. It was definitely a good day to start their lives together.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next time: Merle is reunited with his family :D


	43. Chapter 43

 

          Merle breathed in the fragrant smell of rich soil and verdant foliage as the sun caressed the back of his neck where it flickered through the leaves above. Gawd, how he'd missed it, he mused. He missed what he deemed easy days of camping out in the woods with his brother, hunting and fishing, living off the land. His brother had thrived out there in the wilds of Georgia. Now it was a necessity to live like that. It was all about survival and he could take comfort in the fact Daryl was well-equipped to handle this new world.

          He shot a side-eyed glance at the man trudging along next to him through the brush. Martinez wasn't the outdoorsy type, at least not in the sense the Dixons were. Merle had learned early on the man had lost his wife and two daughters fleeing Atlanta. Before the outbreak he'd been a diesel mechanic and local delivery driver. He'd had a nice home in a decent neighborhood, and had worked himself ragged trying to provide a good life for his family. It was one of the reasons he knew Martinez didn't care for the governor's underhanded tactics. Despite everything he'd had to do under Blake's regime, he was a good man.

          Martinez cursed as he ran head-long into a spider web, the strands invisible to the naked eye. "Damnit, Dixon, what the hell are we doing out here traipsing through the woods when we could be helping the others?"

          Merle hadn't been comfortable leaving Marty to lead the others on a scavenging run a few towns over, but he'd found it necessary. He didn't like the worry he saw every day lurking behind her jade green eyes. He needed to know who he could trust, and Martinez was a wild card. Once and for all, it was time to find out where the man's loyalties lay. "I found a group," he lied, looking for familiar landmarks which would show him the way to the farm. "Been watchin' 'em for a while now."

          He didn't miss the way the shorter man flinched. "So, we're just scouting?"

          "Yeah, y' could say that. Think they'd fit right in at Woodbury."

          Merle lowered the sleeves on his jacket over the cuffs Marty had made for him. He didn't need the sun glancing off of them and alerting his ever-watchful brother to his presence just yet. Just last week, he was sure the sheriff had caught sight of him, but he'd been mistaken. Either that, or Officer Friendly was an idiot. He threw out a hand to stop his companion as the farmhouse and its wide-open fields came into view. He crouched down and dug in his pack for his binoculars as Martinez followed his lead and did the same.

          "This place is so open. There's not the least bit of protection. How is it they haven't been overrun?" Caesar asked, mild shock tinging his deep voice.

          Merle shook his head. "Dumb luck, I suppose." He squinted through the glasses. "There's about seventeen that I've been able to count so far. Governor's always lookin' for new blood. Whatcha think?"

          Martinez scanned the grounds, taking in everything. There was a woman atop the RV with a rifle on watch, and tents scattered beneath a grove of trees to make up their small camp. Women and men alike were setting up a table on the front lawn and bringing out covered dishes. Children were carrying chairs to be set up, and a huge grill was smoking away. It looked like a Sunday afternoon barbeque. He could just imagine Blake getting his hands on good people like this, and he shuddered. He'd take everything they had and force them to bend to his will, much like he'd done to him until he'd agreed to fall in line.

          "I dunno, Dixon. They might not be right for Woodbury," he murmured, feeling defeated. He knew if Merle really wanted to drag this group back, there was little he could do about it. He didn't know how much longer it would be before Blake ordered him to do something he just wouldn't be able to do. His life wouldn't be worth squat should he disobey a direct order.

          "S’that right?" Merle drawled. "Don'tcha think those kids would be safer behind our walls? Those women? What about th' ol' man? He don't look like he'd come out too well if'n he had t' fight through a herd."

          Martinez clenched his jaw, continuing to watch the group as they prepared to sit down to supper, their happy smiling faces and relaxed postures. "We can't," he said, shooting up to his full height.

          The whoosh of a blade was the only warning before the man felt the bark of the tree digging into his back as Merle wrapped a hand around his throat and pressed the cuff's bayonet into his neck. "Why?" Dixon hissed. "We have direct orders t' find people like this an' bring 'em back. Blake wants numbers. So, y' best look like tellin' me why, friend."

          Caesar gulped audibly as he stared into Merle's cold and calculating blue eyes. "Because I don't trust the bastard not to hurt them! Fuck, you've seen what he's capable of. Do you really want their blood on your hands?"

Merle chuckled, his lips curling up into a satisfied smile. "Knew I was right about y'." He let go, giving the man some room to breathe.

          "What? You going to kill me now?"

          He shook his head and leaned a shoulder against the tree Martinez had just been pinned to, retracting the blade. "Now why would I wanna do that? Y' passed th' test."

          "Test?" Martinez glared at him.

          "I had t' know," Merle drawled. "Schumpert woulda been all for draggin' those people back t' Woodbury, being the governor's flunkie as it is. But you … you're jus' tryin' to keep yer ass in one piece. Y' hate what Blake is doin', but y' know th' second y' try t' leave, yer dead."

          His shoulders slumped in obvious relief. "I thought you were just like him."

          Merle snorted. "Not even at m' worst could I be like that fuck. He hides behind that politician's oily smile. If'n I'm gonna kill y', yer gonna see it comin'." He pointed a long finger in the direction of the farm. "That group … he ain't touchin' 'em as long as I'm still breathin'. Well, I'd happily hand over the good sheriff, but not the rest of 'em."

          Martinez narrowed his eyes. "You know them." It wasn't a question. Somehow deep in his gut, he knew.

          Merle nodded, gesturing for the man to raise the binoculars to his eyes. "See th' silver fox in th' white shirt? That's m' brother's woman. He's th' one with th' crossbow. The girl with th' bow on 'er back? That's m' peach. I would die for them, kill for them. Blake ain't touchin' 'em," he said fiercely. "What I wanna know is … are y' gonna help me burn his ass t' th' ground?"

          Caesar continued to watch the girl through the binoculars as she teased the boy at her side and then ran around to hide behind the man Merle had pointed out as his brother. "Oh, yeah. I'm with you, Dixon."

          Merle hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and made himself as comfortable as possible. He'd have to wait until dark, wait for the camp to settle until he could approach his brother. "Glad t' hear it. I really didn't wanna have t' kill y'."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl held Carol's hand, their fingers twined loosely. Her head rested on one of his shoulders, Sophia slung over the other. He wasn't surprised she'd fallen asleep there on Hershel's porch on the swing. He found it hard to suppress a yawn of his own. He'd had very little sleep, and the day had been busy. Ducking into the tent, he laid his daughter gently upon her bedroll and covered her with a blanket.

          He turned swiftly and pressed a brief kiss to his wife's lips. "I'ma do a quick walk around an' check in with Dale. I won't be long."

          Carol grinned sleepily and began pulling out her sleepwear to get ready for bed. "Be safe."

          Daryl nodded, hurrying out of the tent. His thoughts wandered back to that morning, and he couldn't keep the smile off his face. Carol was his now … well and truly  _his_. She'd committed herself to him by her own vows. No more pretending for strangers, and anyone who looked closely enough would see his ring on her finger. As much as he would have liked to have had his brother there to celebrate with them, he was glad he hadn't been there. He could just hear Merle ribbing him and calling him all sorts of unflattering names for some of the mush which had come out of his mouth while pledging himself to Carol. It had been worth it, though … to be able to call her his wife.

          He smirked off into the darkness as his eyes scanned the perimeter for danger. It was quiet. He hadn't been able to wait to have her, dragging her off to the loft in the barn. He'd kept her there for hours, unable to get enough of her, knowing she'd never be with anyone again the way she was with him. She was no longer shy and timid, finally having banished her demons. Now she was fire and silk, and more than a match for his own appetites. Hell, he hadn't even known he  _had_  such an appetite for sex until he'd met her. Nothing in his past could compare. Before it had just been an itch to scratch, and that had been if he'd wanted to bother with it at all. But with Carol, he could let go and be himself. His past couldn't touch him when he was in her arms.

          Rick had practically ordered him to come out of the barn to join the festivities. He'd griped and grumbled, preferring to keep his new bride all to himself, but Carol had insisted. The Greene family and the ladies from their group had pulled together a nice little shindig to commemorate Carol and Daryl's impromptu wedding, and his girls had enjoyed themselves immensely for which he was thankful. T-Dog and Shane had volunteered to go on a beer run, but Rick and Hershel had shot them down. Everyone needed to keep their wits about them with no fences or walls to hide behind.

          "Daryl … Thought you'd have found your tent by now, son," Dale called as the hunter approached the RV.

          Daryl glanced up and waved a hand around the camp. "Jus' wanted t' do one last sweep. Everythin' quiet so far?"

          "Far as I can tell."

          He gave Dale a nod and then scowled at the boy sitting next to the old man before moving off. Rick had decided to give Randall a chance. The boy had proven himself to be docile and more than willing to integrate himself into the group, trying to be as useful as possible. Really, Randall hadn't given them one reason why he couldn't be trusted. Though Daryl didn't like it, Rick had given the boy a small pup tent they’d had stored away and told him to pick a spot to set it up. Carol had been pleased Rick was willing to give Randall a chance, but Daryl still didn't trust him. Maybe now that he had a measure of freedom he wouldn't be spending so much time with Carol and Sophia.

          Daryl narrowed his eyes as he scanned the tree line in the distance, a prickle of unease making its way up his spine to raise the fine hairs along his nape. The unmistakable feeling of being watched was nearly overwhelming. He quickly let his eyes drift over the scattered tents before they moved to the barn, stables and outbuildings and then finally up to the house. The lantern was still on in Rick and Lori's tent, their shadows playing against the nylon walls. He briefly thought of disturbing them before pushing the thought aside. He couldn't see interrupting their evening because he felt weird.

          He passed by Shane's tent, rolling his eyes when he heard a giggle from Andrea. Over the past few days, the pair had grown closer. It was rare she ever slept in her own tent anymore. Their relationship seemed to have eased some of the tension between Rick and Shane, for which he was relieved. Maybe now they could get down to leading this group as they should. Daryl could hear loud snores coming from T-Dog's tent, causing him to shake his head. Sounded like a bear was trapped in there. Glenn's tent was quiet. Either the boy was asleep, or he'd run off for a few hours in the loft with Maggie. Nothing at all was amiss. There was no reason he should be feeling so off, but he couldn't seem to shake it.

          Daryl widened the perimeter, intent on checking between the outbuildings. His tent was in sight at all times, and his people were on watch. Carol and Sophia were safe. But he had to know if his instincts were off, or if he was just letting his worries spill over too sharply into his consciousness.

          The crossbow was a comforting weight on his arm as he moved silently through the night, his smoky blue gaze searching the shadows. His heart leapt as he approached the small path between the chicken coop and the generator shed, a small family of racoons nearly trampling his boots. "Fuck!" he cursed, lowering the bow. Now he was jumping at small woodland creatures. What the hell was wrong with him?

          He let out a breath, ready to abandon his paranoia and return to his tent. He'd been away from Carol and Sophia long enough.

          Daryl grunted as he was slammed back into the rough wall behind him, a callused hand over his mouth as another gripped his wrist, knocking the bow to the ground.

          "Brother!" came a furious whisper as Daryl struggled to free himself.

          The hunter froze, his eyes round and wide as he tried to see through the shadows, that familiar whisper sending a chill of alertness coursing through his wiry frame.

          Merle chuckled lowly. "Think y' can control yerself if'n I let yer ass go?"

          Daryl nodded, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. He was still for a full five seconds before his fist shot out and caught Merle square in the mouth, forcing his brother back into the wall of the coop behind him. "Fuckin' hell, Merle! Where th' hell y' been?!"

          "Th' fuck was that for?" Merle growled, fingering his split lip.

          He glowered at the other man. "Y' made Sophia cry! That's what th' fuck that was for."

          The elder Dixon sighed heavily. "Yeah, I suppose I deserved it then."

          Daryl retrieved his bow from where it had fallen, and raked a hand through his hair. "C'mon."

          "I cain't stay," Merle said as Daryl paused at the mouth of the path to gauge his surroundings.

          "What th' hell y' talkin' about. Of course, y' can."

          "Got somethin' big goin' on, baby brother. You'll understand when I explain, but I want t' see th' girls first."

          Daryl fumed silently. Wasn't that always the way with Merle Dixon? Everything was always more important than his family. He made sure Randall and Dale were both looking the other way before shoving his brother in the direction of their tent. None too gently either.

          Carol's eyes bugged, a hand rising to her mouth as she sat up and stared at their missing brother. "Merle!" she gasped.

          His grin was wide and warm as he held open his arms to her. "Hiya there, Mouse," he breathed quietly. His eyes went to Sophia where she lay sleeping as he looked over Carol's shoulder. Carol nearly squeezed the breath out of him.

          "Are you alright? God, we've been so worried about you," she whispered, her hand reaching up to rest alongside his stubbled jaw as she searched his face.

          "I'm good," he assured her. "Got a lot t' tell y'all."

          Daryl flopped down to sit on the bedroll next to her, still scowling. He wouldn't deny he was thrilled to see his brother alive and well, but he was angry as hell Merle couldn't stay with them.

          Merle let her go and crawled over to sit at Sophia's feet. His chest hurt with the feelings constricting his cold heart. He was the man he was today because of that little girl. A shaky hand reached out to her, his fingers brushing over the sole of her bare foot. The child never could stand to sleep with her feet covered, he remembered with amusement. She twitched, grumbling into her pillow. He repeated the action and she sat up, reaching for whatever it was irritating her skin.

          She stared wide-eyed, wondering if maybe she were dreaming.

          "Hey, Peach," he murmured in greeting, a huge smile on his weathered features.

          Her eyes filled with tears a second before she threw herself at him, knocking him back onto his ass. His arms closed tightly around her, his eyes slamming closed to keep the tears from falling. He was Merle Fucking Dixon and he did  _not_ cry. He looked over to his brother, but Daryl was staring down at his hands. Carol was staring at them, tears in her own eyes as Sophia wept softly against his neck.

          Which was why he was so surprised when she sat back on his knees and slapped the fire from him. "What took you so long!? Do you have any idea how worried I've been for you?" she hissed, glaring at him. "And the nightmares I've had since you've been gone!"

          "Peach …"

          "We had to leave the bunker, and I really thought I'd never see you again, despite Dad telling me you'd find us."

          Merle arched a brow in Daryl's direction, mouthing 'Dad?" Daryl blushed crimson.

          "Then Rick and Shane wanted us to go to Fort Benning, thinking the military could help us. Which was totally stupid! And then I got lost in the woods for  _three_  days and never thought I was going to find Mom and Dad."

          "Peach …"

          "All the while I was out there, all I wanted was for you and Dad to find me, but you were  _gone_ , and I felt so guilty for making you go on that run …" Her little voice hiccupped as she fought back another sob, all the anguish she'd suffered for weeks pouring out of her. "Dad finally found me, and he got hurt and then I get back here, and Shane had been shot, Lori and Rick were fighting over her having an affair with Shane when they thought Rick was dead, Otis got bit and fuckin' died, walkers were in the barn. It was a total mess! And, where were you? GONE!"

          Merle's mouth gaped open halfway through her little tantrum and stayed that way. Daryl sighed and dropped his head into his hands, and Carol looked like she was fighting laughter.  _Th' fuck?_  "Uh … y' finished?"

          Sophia narrowed her eyes. "No! You missed the wedding, Merle! Mom and Dad got married this morning and you MISSED IT!"

          Nothing she’d said before could have floored him as much as that last tidbit of information. His eyes swung to the blushing couple. "Married?"

          "Shut up, asshole!" Daryl growled.

          Sophia laid a hand against his jaw, pulling his gaze back to hers. "Did you get my letter? Have you been being good?" she asked softly.

          Merle softened, hugging her a little tighter. "I got it, Peach. Don't know so much about bein' good, though. I been tryin', but it ain't always that easy."

          "But you tried. That's what matters."

          "Sometimes …" he began, his voice rough. "Sometimes, y' gotta be bad in order t' find somethin' good. An' I have all kinds o' good in store for y’."

          "That why y' cain't stay?" Daryl grumbled, glaring at his brother.

          "What does he mean you can't stay?" Sophia asked in a panicked little voice. "You have to  _stay_ , Merle! We need you," the last was uttered in the most pitiful tone he'd ever heard in his life. He hadn't thought his tough little peach was even capable of such.

          Merle sighed, adjusting her on his lap so she could lean back against his chest. When she was settled, he rested his chin atop her head and just took a moment, reveling in being with his family once again. It had been so hard to be away from them, much harder than he'd ever thought possible. The running, hiding, and constant fighting … it was difficult enough, but to do so without those you love just made it worse. It was too simple to lose sight of what you were fighting for.

          Carol cleared her throat, dragging him from his reverie. "Merle, where have you been? What really happened in Atlanta?" she asked, leaning into her husband's side as she stared questioningly at her brother-in-law.

          "Were you high?" Daryl asked, the muscle ticking in his jaw.

          Merle sneered. "No, I wasn't high, dipshit. You know I gave that shit up not too long after we got t' th' quarry. Hard t' keep a habit when there's no suppliers left."

          "Martine –"

          "Gave it up too! Think we could move on now, Darylina? Or y' got more questions?" he sneered. "Wanna know if I like chocolate milk on m' Cheerios? How many times I shit a day? Th' fuck is wrong with y'?" His icy blue eyes flashed fire. "I made y' a promise, an' I ain't gone back on it."

          "Dad, stop!"

          Daryl's narrowed gaze landed on his daughter. "Baby girl, y' don't know what he was like before."

          "Yes, I do!" she huffed. "He was mean, and he scared me, but he got better! He wouldn't go back on a promise to you. You're his family, and he loves you … even if he  _is_  too pussy to admit it."

          "Sophia!" Carol shrieked.

          Daryl's face broke out into a smug smirk as his brother gaped at her.

          "I oughta flip y' over on m' knee an' tan your hide, girl," Merle growled.

          Sophia grinned up at him over her shoulder as she shrugged. "Y' won't though, because you love me, too."

          "Brat."

          Carol rolled onto her side and propped her head in her hand, her fingers pulling at a loose thread on her quilt. "Enough, you two," she chuckled. "I want to know what happened. Rick told us you were out of control, and that you got in a fight with T."

          Sophia's excited gaze swung to her uncle before he could begin his story. "Ohmygod! You should've seen Dad when him and mom got back to camp after their hunting trip. He was furious! He threw half a dozen squirrels at Rick and then pulled a knife on him."

          "Is that right?" Merle chuckled.

          "Yep. Then Shane snuck up behind him and had him in a choke hold, but mom drew on him and made him let go. It was awesome!"

          Merle looked at the blushing duo, his eyes wide. "What th' hell did y' do t' Mouse? I ain't been gone that long!"

          "You shouldn't have been gone at all!" Daryl snapped through clenched teeth. "You shoulda been there t' watch m' daughter. We trusted y' t' keep her safe!"

          Carol's hand wrapped around his bicep, her eyes pleading as she looked up at him. "Daryl, please don't do this now."

          "I woulda been there when y' got back, dummy, if yer new best friend hadn’t left me cuffed t' a fuckin' roof!"

          The hunter was well and truly pissed off now. His eyes blazed with anger, the tick in his jaw prominent, nostrils flared. "We went back for y', Merle. All y' had t' do was wait! But y' wanna know what I came back t' at the quarry? Walkers! Everywhere."

          Merle paled, guilt not an emotion he was at all familiar with. It ate away at his gut, and he held Sophia a little tighter.

          "Carol an' Soph were up on top o' th' RV, tryin' t' kill as many as they could. An' that ain't even th' worst of it."

          "What th' hell could be worse than fending off an attack?" Merle asked quietly, raking a hand over his close-cropped hair.

          Daryl glared at him.

          Carol lowered her gaze, remembering all too well. "When it started, Ed grabbed Sophia to try to get me to go with him, to leave."

          Merle looked as if he were going to be sick. The thought of that man, his hands on Sophia, dragging her away … "Gawd!"

          Sophia turned slightly, her fingertips soft against his jaw. "I stabbed him in the leg, though, and got away. I made Mama crawl on top of the RV with me. Walkers got Ed. He can't hurt us ever again." She turned her sad pale eyes on her father. "Daddy, you can't blame Merle. It was my idea for him to go on that run."

          "You're a kid!" Daryl drew in a deep calming breath and gentled his tone as he looked at his daughter. "He's a grown ass man, Soph. He knew he needed t' stay an' protect y'. That trip t' Atlanta was jus' an excuse for him t' run."

          "Daryl," Carol gasped. "How can you say that?"

          "It's what he's good at," Daryl sneered.

          "An' y' ain't never gonna let me forget, are y'?" Merle asked, hurt evident in his clear blue gaze. They all could see it. "I ain't like that no more, brother. I know it's too little too late, but I'm tryin' t' make it up t' y'."

          Daryl watched him warily. He brought his hand to his mouth, chewing on his thumbnail. It was the closest he'd ever heard his brother try to apologize. Carol settled once again at his side when he didn't resume the argument.

          Sophia broke the strained silence. "Tell us what happened in Atlanta?" she asked, doe eyes wide and pleading. She was determined to find out what had kept him from their family for so long.

          Merle rubbed his free hand over his face and nodded. "Th' run actually went okay until that cop showed up. He stirred th' shit pot real good when 'e rode into town. Had walkers comin' outta th' woodwork tryin' t' get at 'im. Of course, Hop Sing, had t' play th' hero an' try t' rescue 'is stupid ass.

          Sophia rolled her eyes. "His name is Glenn," she corrected him.

          "Hush it, you," he grinned. "Anyway,  _Glenn_  was able t' get Officer Friendly outta th' tank an' lead him back t' the group. In the meantime, I may have started firin' off into the herd."

          "Why?" Daryl scoffed, confused. "Y' know they're drawn by sound."

          "He was scared, Dad. Leave him alone," Sophia admonished.

          "Says who? I ain't scared o' nothin'." There was no way he was going to admit he'd had a severe panic attack atop that roof. "T-Dog an' th' taco bender came runnin' up there with th' rest of 'em, tellin' me I was wastin' bullets, an' things escalated from there."

          Daryl snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "So, y' got your back up an' started a fight. Typical Merle Dixon bullshit."

          Merle shot him a rude gesture. "Th' good sheriff clocked me in th' back o' th' head with his gun, an' th' next thing I know I'm cuffed t' a pipe an' everybody's blamin' me for bringin' more o' those geeks down on us."

          Sophia laid her head back on his shoulder, looking up at him. "T-Dog said when they were getting ready to leave, he was going to release you, but he dropped the handcuff key. Are you still mad at him?"

          "Of course not, baby," Carol said, but her gaze was locked with Merle's. "He knows it was an accident. Merle is trying to be good now, and holding a grudge isn't very nice, is it?"

          Merle scowled at her, but didn't dispute her claim. "Naw, I ain't mad, Peach."

          "How'd y' get loose?" his brother wanted to know. "All we found was a broken screwdriver and th' part o' th' cuffs still attached t' th' pipe."

          Merle pulled up his sleeve and released the straps on his cuff, showing them the ugly purple scars on the inside of his wrist. "Yeah, lucky th' bastards left Dale's toolbox behind."

          Carol winced. "You're lucky you didn't nick a vein, Merle."

          "I made m' way t' th' bunker. Marty nearly shot me," he chuckled. "There I was, bleedin' an' covered in walker goo, dehydrated an' starvin'. She thought I was a walker at first."

          "Another Dixon trait," Carol murmured dryly as she looked at her husband.

          "Shut up, woman."

          "So, Marty patched me up. I wanted t' come straight back t' th' quarry, but she was worried about those brothers o' hers. They'd been due back two days ago an' still hadn't showed. I owed her, little brother. I had t' help her look for 'em." He sighed. "They didn't make it."

          "We didn't stay at th' quarry for very long after th' attack. Rick wanted t' go t' th’ CDC for answers."

          "Find any?" Merle asked, studying the unease which seemed to cloak his brother.

          "Bunch o' dead ends. Jackass in charge – actually th' only one left – tried t' lock us in with him, then told us th' building was gonna explode t' wipe out all th' nasty shit they kept hidden there," Daryl growled lowly. "Carol talked him out of it, but we only jus' escaped. Sophia saved all our asses."

          Merle looked down at Sophia's blushing face. "Is that right? How?"

          Carol chuckled. "Because  _someone_  doesn't watch her closely enough when in a gun store, we found grenades in her pack. We used one to blast a hole in the shatter-proof window."

          The elder Dixon gaped at them for all of thirty seconds before he burst out laughing. "Sneaky little shit. That's m' girl!"

          Daryl shook his head. Leave it to his brother to praise the girl for stealing heavy artillery. "We really didn't have nowhere t' go, so I brought th' group back t' th' bunker t' hole up for a few days. We waited as long as we could for y' t' show up before we had t’ leave. We were headed t' Benning when we ran into a herd an' Soph went missing."

          "I almost stroked out when I saw that message you'd left for 'er on th' highway." He shuddered as he recalled the fear he'd felt not knowing if his little peach were safe or not. "It's how I found y'all. Followed what was left of your trail through th' woods."

          Carol's head jerked up. "You've been spying on us?"

          Sophia shot an angry look his way. "Have you? Why didn't you just come to us and tell us you were here, that you were safe!?" She jabbed her pointy little elbow into his ribs. "Butthead!"

          Daryl fell over laughing, his head coming to rest on Carol's lap as she sat up. "Don't even think about scoldin' her either, woman."

          Merle glared at his brother. "I told y' earlier. I got somethin' big goin' on. Somethin' I want badly." He held up a hand to forestall Daryl's protests. "Don't look at me like that, y' little fucker. It ain't just about me. This is bigger than all o' us."

          Daryl groaned. He knew Merle better than anyone. From the time they were kids, it had been one scheme after another. Usually, it was Daryl pulling Merle's ass out of the fire when they blew up in his brother's face. He couldn't chance it this time, however. He had his girls to watch out for. "Merle –"

          Merle cut him off. "This ain't about me, Darylina. This is about Peach being able t' grow up, about Mouse bein' able t' have a home, about Marty bein' safe."

          Carol's face lit up with curiosity. She'd never seen her brother-in-law speak so passionately about anything other than his own interests. She could see clearly whatever it was meant a lot to him because he was trying to protect his family. "Then I think we need to discuss this."

          He shot her an approving smile and urged Sophia off his lap. "A'right, Mouse. I think it's time we invite the good sheriff t' join th' party."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next time: Merle reveals his plans to the group and Marty delivers unwelcome news.


	44. Chapter 44

 

          Merle sat next to Sophia on the log she'd dragged him over to, much like the others in a large circle around the fire. He rubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw, scratching idly as his eyes took in the camp, the farm, and surrounding land. They were just asking to be invaded, in his opinion. If not by walkers, then by the living out to take what they wanted in a lawless and merciless world. Carol had offered to run up to the house to fetch him some leftovers, but he'd declined. He didn't expect his brother to be receptive to the news he had to share, and it was better done on an empty stomach.

          The low burning lantern in the deputy's tent was still burning, so he knew it wouldn't take long for Rick to heed Daryl's soft call. Merle shook his head. The man stepped out of the tent, his boots unlaced and not a weapon in sight. What the hell was wrong with the former deputy? Was he so confident in his watch detail he would just let his guard down? Even Sophia, surrounded by the protection of her family, had her knife on her. Daryl had his crossbow, and Carol her belt loaded down with her own weapons. Idiot, he thought in disgust.

          Merle's eyes narrowed as his brother spoke to Rick, relishing the way the officer's eyes widened slightly when Daryl explained the reason for his visit so late in the evening. The man visibly gulped as he followed Daryl over to the fire. Merle stepped out of the circle of logs to meet them, a wide grin spread across his lips. It was calculating, to be sure, but only his brother knew him well enough to sense the menace of that simple gesture.

          Before Rick could say anything, Merle's fist shot out, catching the man square in the mouth, much like Daryl had done to him when he'd caught him unawares earlier. He chortled in satisfaction as Rick landed on his ass in the dirt.

          "Damnit, Merle!" Daryl cursed, glaring at his brother. "How d'you expect 'im t' listen t' a fuckin' thing y' got t' say if y' keep knockin' 'im down?"

          Merle leaned over Rick, bracing his hands on his knees. "That's fer Atlanta. Now that's done, what say we get past it an' have ourselves a little chat?"

          Rick fingered his split lip – identical to the one Merle himself sported – and eyed the redneck warily. His gaze swung to Daryl as Merle held out a hand to help him up off the ground. The younger Dixon nodded. Rick trusted Daryl, but doubted he'd ever find himself trusting Merle.

          Merle helped him to his feet and instantly dropped his hand, moving back to sit between Carol and Sophia. Daryl – antsy little fucker that he was – wouldn't be able to keep still and decided to pace behind him. He ignored Carol's disapproving glare and got right down to business.

          "Y'all ain't safe here." He gestured around to the wooden fences. "That shit there … it might keep th' animals corralled in th' pasture, but it ain't gonna do no good if'n a herd comes through here."

          Rick shook his head. "We haven't seen the first walker since we've been here."  Aside from those Otis and Jimmy had corralled in the barn, but Dixon did _not_ need to know that, the deputy thought.

          Merle arched a brow at the man as Sophia leaned in against his side and slipped her hand into his. He didn't remember her being so clingy, but what surprised him was he didn't mind her closeness a bit. "How long was y' out there, sheriff? Not long from what m' fam'ly tells me. That herd out on th' highway? That wasn't nothin' compared t' what's comin'."

          "Merle, get t' th' fuckin' point some time tonight, would y'?" Daryl growled. His brother had a sense for drama. Anything he could laugh about later.

          "Th' point, baby brother, is that no one is safe outside of fences or walls. Some type of barricade t' keep th' deaders out!"

          "Tell us something we don't already know, Dixon. We're doing the best we can with what we've got. We were lucky to have even found this place," Rick hissed quietly. The last thing he needed was for his wife to come looking for him. Her incessant input would only complicate matters. "Why don't you tell us where you've been."

          He was barely holding on to his temper when Carol and Sophia both laid a hand on his arm. "Stop bein' an asshole. I'm here t' help  _all_ o' you fuckers. Otherwise, I woulda just convinced Daryl an' th' girls t' leave with me." He sighed heavily. "When we were out there lookin' for Marty's brothers, we were chased by this pair o' yahoos. At first, I thought they were jus' out t' take what little we had, but they were on a scavengin' run. Th' one guy, Martinez, he recognized me, said he wanted t'  _recruit_  me."

          Carol frowned. "Recruit you for what? Did you know him from the service?"

          Merle shook his head. "Naw, Mouse. Seems me an' 'is brother served time together. Anyway, t' get 'im off m' ass, I decided t' look into his proposition. He led me an' Marty t' this town – Woodbury. Y' wouldn't believe this place. It's an entire town – homes, shops, whatnot –  _fenced_  in. With a little reinforcement t' the fences, a thousand head herd couldn't penetrate it." He glanced down at Sophia, the look on her face assuring him her brilliant little mind was going a mile a minute. "See where I'm goin' with this?"

          Carol didn't want to get her hopes up. "What's the catch, Merle. There always is with you."

          "Th' town's run by a snake oil salesman. Think _Jonestown._ "

          Daryl stopped his pacing and crouched down on his haunches next to his daughter. "Fuck. Those are th' worst kind. What's he got y' doin' in this little town," he sneered.

          All trace of amusement fell from Merle's face. "Every madman needs a general, don't 'e?"

          Rick stared at him incredulously as he shot up off the log and paced behind it, his head hung low, hands on his hips. "And you want us to go here? I'm not putting this group … my  _family_  in danger."

          Merle's upper lip curled in disgust. "Not yet. I'm not here t' offer up an invitation t' get slaughtered. I'm here t' warn y' t' stay away. I mean as far away as possible. This sick fuck is out there gatherin' up as much artillery as 'e can get 'is hands on. On th' surface, he's got a select few 'e rescued where 'e puts on this show for 'em, makes 'is little speeches t' 'em where he's th' reason they're safe. Those idiots worship th' ground 'e walks on. Then there's 'is soldiers."

          Carol shivered. "Which you lead?"

          "Not all of 'em. Marty an' I have been seekin' out th' ones who come there who don't exactly like his tactics, those who can see through 'im."

          Daryl's penetrating stare settled on his brother, studying him intently. "You're amassin' your own army."

          Merle's lips spread out in a wide grin. "Exactly, little brother. I'm gonna take it." He wrapped an arm around Sophia and pulled her into his side. "Peach deserves somewhere good to grow up."

          "How can we help?" Rick asked. He and Lori would need somewhere safe to help raise their own child, and he knew there would be a fight on his hands if he ever tried to separate Carl from Sophia. Hell, from Daryl too, for that matter.

          Merle laughed outright. "From you? Forget it, Deputy Do-Right. Y' ain't even close t' being ready t' take on Blake an' 'is men. From what I've seen, y' couldn't plan a raid on a snowball stand. Y' might have a mind for strategy, an' some skills which served y' okay in th' old world, but y' ain't equipped t' handle what's out there now." He gestured between himself and his brother as he watched Rick bristle. Merle wouldn't have liked someone questioning his leadership either, but this wasn't a fantasyland. "This is our world. Y' ain't gonna last long if y' cling t' your high an' mighty moral code. Y' gotta be prepared t' get yer hands dirty t' protect those y' love."

          Rick's lips parted on a silent gasp. "It was you … out there at the tree line. I thought I was seeing things."

          "I gotta keep an eye on what's mine there, officer," he smirked. "I cain't say I trust y' all that much."

          Rick sat back down and rubbed his hands together, not at all comfortable under Merle's gaze. He felt as if the man were looking right down into his soul and found him lacking. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened in Atlanta. I should have found a way back up to that roof to get you out. Daryl, T, Glenn and I went back for you, but you were already gone. We don't leave our people behind," he said earnestly. "It's not likely we'll ever trust one another, but I want us to be able to work together."

          Merle rubbed a finger between his lip and chin, his eyes narrowed on the former deputy. The man was grasping. He was scared Merle would convince his family to leave the group, and it would be hard as hell to survive without Daryl there. He looked over at Carol. Her soft azure gaze was pleading with him to accept Rick's apology. For some reason, she loved the members of this group and wanted them all to stay together. Daryl was in so deep; the boy didn't know where he ended and she began. He'd do as she wanted to keep her happy.

          His rough hand stroked gently over Sophia's golden hair. "Whatcha think, Peach?"

          She blinked up at him, surprised he was asking her opinion. It filled her with pride. "I think we need to stick together."

          "A'right, Officer Friendly, we'll give it a shot." He pulled a map from the inside pocket of his leather jacket and handed it to Daryl. "I've marked Woodbury on th' map."

          Daryl sat next to Rick, so they could look over it together. "What's these other markings?"

          "Th' red X shows where y' are now. That's th' farm. Th' green circle is Woodbury, and the blue squares are towns th' governor has already raided. Those should be safe enough for y' t' scavenge for supplies, if needed, without runnin' into his mercenaries." He smirked lazily. "Marty went kinda ape shit with the colored pencils."

          "And the orange star?" Rick asked, squinting in the low light of the campfire.

          Merle shrugged. "A last resort."

          "What do you mean?" Carol asked.

          "I mean, if y'all do have t' leave th' farm an' head back out on th' road, you're t' only go  _there,"_  he jabbed a finger in the direction of the map, "if y' cain't find no place safer. It's a prison, and it's overrun with walkers. This group ain't strong enough or trained enough t' take on clearin' it out."

          "I'm workin' with 'em, Merle," Daryl said gruffly. "They ain't useless, no matter what y' think. Even Lori's a decent shot now."

          Carol fidgeted beside him. "How are you planning on dealing with this 'governor' person? If he's as bad as you say –"

          He reached over and squeezed her hand. "Don't y' worry, Mouse. I got some good people watchin' m' back. The trick is I'm goin' t' have t' lure 'im out. I cain't kill 'im in view of those sheep in town. Otherwise, they ain't gonna wanna accept new leadership when our group takes over."

          "You really think this place is best for us?" Sophia asked softly behind a yawn.

          He grinned down at her. "Th' best, Peach. Clean water, hot showers, fences t' keep th' dead out. Yeah, it's a good place. And there's potential t' expand where we can eventually become self-sufficient."

          Rick shook his head. "It almost sounds too good to be true."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl mirrored his brother's position, lying on his stomach facing Merle as they talked in muted whispers. Carol had barely made it to their bedroll before she'd passed out from exhaustion, curled up against his back. Sophia was much the same, clinging to Merle's back like a little spider monkey, her arm around his waist and her face pressed between his shoulder blades. She was terrified he'd leave again without saying goodbye.

          It was strange having Merle back after so long. "Y' sure this ain't another one o' your schemes, Merle. If it is, an' it blows up in your face, it's gonna crush Carol and Sophia."

          Merle shook his head where it was propped up in his hand. "I'm tellin' y', baby brother. This is th' real deal. I ain't doin' this for me. I'm doin' it for them … our girls. Who knows how long this shit is gonna go on, or how long th' dead are gonna roam th' world before they start dyin' off for good? They need a safe place where we can protect 'em."

          "What about Marty?" Daryl asked, a knowing grin curling his lips.

"Shut up, asshole," Merle sneered, reaching over to steal Daryl's pillow.

          He let it go, not wanting to disturb either of the girls. "How's she doin' anyway?"

          "She's good. Without th' drugs muddlin' us up so bad, we're both different people. That girl is fierce, an' I'm glad I got her t' watch m' back," Merle replied. He knew that wasn't what Daryl wanted to know, but he wasn't going to be dragged into a conversation about his fucking feelings. Oh, hell no!

          Daryl yawned and rested his cheek atop his crossed arms. "She yours now, or has she run off with one o' them soldiers y' got followin' y'?"

          Merle narrowed his eyes in warning. "None o' your damn business!" He whacked Daryl with the pillow. "An' y' ain't got no room t' talk. I cain't believe y' run off an' married Mouse. Why th' hell did y' do that for? She was already yours."

          Daryl smirked. "Because I love 'er, dumbshit. An' I ain't afraid t' tell 'er so, either. You an' Marty ain't th' only ones who's changed."

          "I worried about y', little brother, for a long time. Thought y' was queer."

          Daryl snorted. "I ain't no queer, jackass."

          Merle dropped down onto the pillow beneath his head as Sophia twitched behind him and mumbled in her sleep. He liked what he saw in his brother now. Some of the tension and anxiety which used to rule his actions seemed to be missing. He was healing. Before, Daryl had never wanted anyone in his personal space, and lord forbid someone tried to touch him. Now he wore Carol like a second skin on their bedroll, and he didn't pass up an opportunity to touch her even in passing. He couldn't deny how much Daryl had changed, and it was all for the better. It would make him stronger and give him something to fight for.

          "It looks good on y'."

          "What?"

          "Being pussy whipped," he chuckled.

          "Gawd, Merle, shut th' fuck up!"

          Merle closed his eyes, feeling sleep creeping up on him. "Y' happy?"

          Daryl sighed as Carol's arm wrapped around his waist, pulling herself closer to him. "Yeah, I am," he admitted, even against his better judgment. It was fuel to the fire of Merle's warped sense of humor.

          "I'm glad, even though you're a pansy motherfucker for bowin' t' a woman's whims."

          "Merle?"

          "Yeah?"

          "I'm kickin' your ass before y' leave tomorrow."

          Merle chuckled. "Y' can try."

 

*.*.*

 

          Merle woke the instant Sophia stirred next to him, quickly shaking the sleep off of him. Even with her late hours, she seemed to have adapted his brother's internal alarm clock. His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her onto his lap with a giggle. "Whatcha doin' up so early, huh?"

          "I was going to ask Dad if we were going hunting this morning," she replied, laying her head against his chest. She couldn't remember how many times she'd fallen asleep like this at the quarry. Her mama thought Daryl was a teddy bear. In her opinion, no one was like Merle. Even if he didn't want to admit it.

          He shook his head. "Rick's gonna wanna talk t' th' farmer today. See if y'all can't start buildin' some walls."

          Sophia looked up at him. "It's not going to work."

          "Why not?"

          She didn't miss his calculating look while she took her time to answer him. He looked deeper than the others, and she thought it was why he expected so much more than them. He didn't just think she was smart for a kid. He thought she was smart for a grown-up. "The farm is too big. I've heard them talking about this lumber place in town, but it's going to take more than that. We need lumber, yeah … but we also need steel to reinforce. Even if we find an abandoned construction site, there wouldn't be time before another herd made its way through here."

          Merle poked her nose. "See? That's why I like y', Peach. Smart as hell."

          Sophia smiled sadly. "I worried about you out there. I was afraid you wouldn't find us, no matter what Mom and Dad said."

          His gaze wandered to Daryl where he lay with his face buried in Carol's pillow before settling once more on her. The sun was already beginning to lighten the sky. "I'll always find m' fam'ly. Ain't nothin' gonna stop me from makin' a safe place for y'all," he whispered raspily.

          She nodded down at her fidgeting hands before she raised her clear blue eyes to his. "Just don't lose yourself while you're doing it, okay?"

          If he could only make her understand what he'd gone through since receiving her letter, the gut-wrenching pain he'd suffered trying to understand why this little girl made him want to be a better man. Not just for her, but for Marty, to be all he could for her. For Daryl and Carol as well. Nothing mattered more than them, and if he had to burn the world down to keep them safe, he'd damn sure do it. "Don't worry, my littlest Dixon, I'll be th' same loveable bastard I always was."

          Sophia seemed to be okay with that, for which he was relieved. She wasn't stupid; far from it. She knew he'd do what it would take. Satisfied, he reached out and kicked Daryl with his bare foot. "Mornin', Sunshine!"

          Daryl kicked back, somehow winding up tangled in the blankets. "Miserable fucker," he grumbled under his breath. "Why don'tcha go nag Carol for some coffee an' leave me th' hell alone." He glared at Sophia. "Should've known you'd have your partner in crime there with y' too."

          "Yeah, well I jus' thought it'd be wise t' have y' out there before th' rest of 'em," he drawled.

          Daryl didn't waste any more time grabbing his pants and changing once Sophia skipped out of the tent to help her mother. "Jus' try not t' start no shit with T-Dog an' Glenn, Merle. Y' got your licks in on Rick. That oughtta be enough."

          "Long as they behave," he smirked.

          Daryl stopped him as Merle moved to put on his jacket. "Th' hell is that?" he asked, pointing at the cuffs.

          Merle flicked his thumb across the button on the right cuff under his long sleeve, and Daryl jumped back as the blade sprung free. "Little gift from Marty. She made it in 'er workshop. Got all kinds o' little gadgets up there."

          Daryl pulled his vest on over a long-sleeved shirt. "Then what's she messin' around with your dumb ass for?"

          He shot out of the tent before Merle could swat him in the back of the head. The camp was already stirring, and Rick was talking quietly with Carol next to the fire. Merle could practically feel the tension radiating from his brother. Daryl might be the sweet one, but he was possessive as hell. He took the seat Daryl was aiming for and slid in smoothly next to Carol, earning a glare.

          Merle didn't have time to wonder about it when Carl came out of his tent and stared wide eyed at him. It was even worse when Lori stumbled to a halt behind him and wrapped a protective arm around his neck. He arched a brow in her direction, daring her to say something. She looked from Rick to Carol, and eased her grip. It was evident they were both comfortable there with him. It surprised her to see Rick completely at ease after what he'd told her had happened in Atlanta. Lori nodded at Carl and let him go … as long as she could keep an eye on him. He might not try to hurt them, but his particular brand of mischief could get them in trouble without him even trying.

          T-Dog came out buttoning his shirt and yawning widely. "Carol, you think I could have some of that coffee before I go on watch …" His fingers froze on the buttons as he got a look at Merle. "Oh shit!"

          Merle grinned smoothly as he took a bowl of oatmeal and began eating calmly. "Hiya,  _Dawg_."

          Daryl shook his head and shoveled down his own food.

          "That's it? You ain't here to slaughter us all for leaving you in Atlanta?" T asked, inching closer to where Carol held out a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of coffee to him.

          "Not especially," he shrugged, angling a sideways glance at Rick's purpled jaw and split lip. "Got all o' that outta my system last night."

          "No wonder he waited until I was asleep before he came back to the tent," Lori quipped. Rick shot her a pained grimace.

          Carol pressed her lips together in a thin line to keep from laughing.

          "Merle Dixon?" Shane asked as he and Andrea finally came out of their tent. "I'll be damned. Thought you were dead," he said, pulling the blonde to sit next to him.

          T-Dog wasn't taking chances. He grabbed his bowl and high-tailed it to the RV to relieve Dale and Randall. Merle was better taken at a distance. Dale actually reached out to shake his hand when he made it to the campfire.

          "Good to see you, son. How is it out there?" Dale asked, motioning Randall closer so he could get something to eat.

          "Worse than you'd expect. People ain't too resilient if'n y' know what I mean. They take chances, get bit, an' then there's more of 'em." His eyes narrowed on Randall. "Now, who's this squirrely little fucker? I don't remember 'im from th' quarry."

          Daryl shot his brother a look, one he didn't take kindly to, and pointed his spoon in the boy's direction. "One o' Carol's charity cases."

          "Daryl, stop," she admonished lightly. "Merle, stop scaring him."

          Randall scooted closer to Dale and buried his head in his bowl. "Oh, I ain't even begun t' scare 'im, Mouse," he drawled lowly, feeling his hackles rise.

          "Regardless," Rick said, "he's part of our group now."

          Merle took in the unease in his brother's posture. If Daryl didn't like him, he didn't either. His brother was a damn good judge of character, and he wasn't going to just brush it under the rug. That one would need to be watched, despite what Carol might think.

          Daryl handed Sophia his bowl. "Where th' hell is Glenn an' th' girls. They're supposed t' run with th' group before trainin."

          "Y' got 'em trainin?"

          Daryl shrugged. "They're soft."

          "Um … that isn't Glenn, Maggie OR Beth," Sophia said, pointing off towards the trees at the back of the house.

 

*.*.*

 

          "We're going to get shot,  _querida_ ," Caesar hissed as he and Marty stepped out of the trees. He'd left his rifle strapped to his back and held his hands out at his sides in a non-threatening manner, but he still didn't feel at all comfortable with a group this size. "They're going to shoot us, and then no one will ever know what happened to us."

          Marty pressed her lips together, but still wasn't able to stifle her laughter. "What is wrong with you?! They're a group o' survivors, Martinez, not a band of guerillas in a third world country fighting for their independence. Gawd!"

          "Merle's going to get us all killed."

          She arched a raven's wing brow in his direction. The poor man was actually sweating. He really wasn't cut out for this kind of work. He'd be better off helping her fashion weapons in secret back in her workshop. "It's fine, darlin'. Stop your worryin'. The worst y' can expect is catchin' th' skinny brunette's eye."

          "What?" he asked, his head swinging to her sharply. "Why? Is she the leader or something? I can't see Merle's brother following a woman."

          "Naw," Marty grinned, "but she might want t' keep y'."

          He sputtered, his face turning red. That was how Merle found them when he got close enough. She forgot about her teasing in an instant as his large hands cradled her face and swept over her, looking for injury. Merle didn't like to be parted from her. As capable as she was, he didn't think anyone could keep her better protected than he could.

          Her slender arms went about his waist, tugging him closer as he rested his brow to hers. "Breathe, baby," she whispered. "Y' can be angry later, but right now, breathe."

          "What are y' even doin' here!" he snapped, not even a tenth of the tension he was feeling draining away.

          "Got some news I thought I'd share," she shrugged.

          "Marty," Carol greeted when Merle pulled away. She and Daryl had followed him over to greet his people. "It's so good to see you again."

          Martine shot her a brilliant smile before pulling her into a hug. "Mouse – er … Carol. Sorry, it's what Merle calls y'. Mouse and Peach, not Carol and Sophia. You know how he is."

          "Oh, yes," she said with a roll of her eyes. "And this is?"

          "That's Martinez. He's a friend."

          "Daryl, stop pointing that thing at him," Carol whispered furiously, laying a hand on his arm. She wasn't so presumptuous as to actually touch his bow.

          "Y' don't even know him!"

          "But Merle does, and he trusts him."

          "Y' say that like it's a good thing!" he grumbled.

          Rick smiled stiffly, not at all sure how to take the newcomers, but he wasn't going to alienate them when Merle had come all this way to help them. "Why don't you both come on back to camp and have some breakfast. Surely, you've both come all this way with something important to share with us."

          "It's ok, Sugar. Rick's on our side," he whispered as they started walking.

          "That ain't th' same asshole who left y' on the roof? That what you're telling me, Merle?" she drawled in a dry tone. She hadn't missed the blooming color on the cop's jaw. She pulled the string of her bow back. "I can still get 'im from here, y'know."

          Merle chuckled. "That won't be needed, girl." He showed her a seat while Carol began fixing them a bowl. Thankfully, Shane had taken most of the group off to run before training.

          Martinez grinned wolfishly at Carol as he dug into his food. "Thank you,  _mi belleza_. I can't even remember the last time I had oatmeal that tasted good."

          Both Merle and Daryl glowered at him. "Stop flirting with m' brother's wife, Paco!"

          "Daryl got married!?" Marty squealed, abandoning her food to get a gander at Carol's ring. "Oh, I never thought I'd see th' day! I wish we could have been here."

          "Marty!"

          She rolled her eyes at Merle. "Fine! Is there a time o' day where y'  _aren't_  an asshole?" She took several bites, letting his temper rise a bit before she answered. "When we were out yesterday, Blake brought in a new group. Nasty lookin' fellas too. I think we might have some trouble."

          "How many?" Rick asked. "Merle said the town already had close to forty."

          "'Bout fifteen," she murmured sourly.

          Merle leaned forward and rested his forearms against his knees, sighing. "What'd y' get from 'em?"

          Marty handed Carol her bowl when she was done and turned those jade eyes on him. "They don't look like they'd want t' join th' cause. I know personally, I wouldn't want t' be caught in th' same room alone with 'em. It was bad enough when we got back an' I had t' give m' report. If Blake suspects y', this would turn th' tide in 'is favor."

          The elder Dixon chuckled dryly. "Yeah, well 'e don't, Sugar. He ain't gonna suspect a thing 'til m' blade is at 'is throat." He reached over and laced his fingers with hers, not liking it that she'd had to go into the viper's den alone. No more. He was keeping her with him from now on. He wasn't going to let that bastard get his hands on her. "Did 'e ask where I was?"

          She nodded. "I told 'im you an' Martinez were checkin' out a town west of here. I figure we could scrounge up somethin' from th' bunker an' bring in t' cover your ass."

          Daryl paced behind the chair where his wife sat listening intently. "Maybe we should go with y'. Our group, along with th' men y' already have, we should be able t' take that town, Merle."

          Merle shook his head. "An' what about th' innocents livin' there? Kids, elderly … people who ain't never even been out in this mess? We cain't take th' chance an' y' know it."

          "That … um … that ain't th' only problem y' got," Marty said, hating to be the bearer of more bad news. "That handful o' scouts he sent out … they're back."

          "What scouts?" Rick asked, swiping a hand over his face as he tried to interpret the loaded looks they shared.

          Merle huffed out a breath, knowing from the look on his woman's face it couldn't be good. "Th' governor sent out some scouts as far as Atlanta. He wanted t' see what kinda buildup those geeks were makin'." He looked at Marty. "I take it there's not much good news, huh?"

          "No," she stated flatly. "They're comin' in from the west an' buildin' up. Soon as th' food runs out, they're gonna be headin' east."

          "Damnit!" Daryl cursed. "We need t' head north. How much time y' think we have?"

          Marty shrugged. "They couldn't tell us for sure. This ain't like bird migration, y'know. But if I had t' guess … a week."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Reviews are love! Next time: The group prepares to leave the farm.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Last section of this chapter contains smut, so if that's not your thing, you can skip it and not feel you've missed anything. Happy reading!

 

 

          "A week!" Carol squeaked, the blood draining from her face as she looked at the others. "Where are we going to go?"

          Lori swallowed thickly, feeling sick. "It seems we just got settled here."

          Merle shot to his feet and rubbed a hand over his close-cropped hair. "That's th' thing. Unless yer behind some sturdy walls, there ain't no such thing anymore as settlin'. But y'all got time t' get packed an' on th' road north."

          "Hershel's not going to want to leave his farm. This is his home; it's been in his family for generations," Rick said. "We can't just leave him and his girls here."

          Daryl, who'd been quiet up to that point, could no longer fight the panic clawing at his chest. "Y' do what y' want, Rick, but we're leavin' … Me, Carol an' Soph. I ain't stayin' around here t’ let them get slaughtered!"  
          "No, Daryl, I'm with you, man. We have to protect our families, and the only way we're going to do that is by sticking together. We just have to try to convince him to leave."

          Merle nodded approvingly, relieved the deputy wasn't going to be a stubborn ass and want to stick it out because one man didn't want to abandon his home. There were no homes anymore, not without a reliable defense. "Well, y' best get a move on. That was a rough estimate if I know those assholes reporting to Blake. Yer time might be shorter than y' think."

          "In th' meantime, y' might wanna post a heavier watch," Marty suggested, her sharp eyes already taking in the outbuildings. "Y' already have one on th' camper. Put another at th' back o' th' house. Th' tree line is vulnerable there. Maybe another in th' loft on th' barn? At least until y'all get ready t' leave."

          Martinez agreed with her. "I wish we could stay and help get you out of here, but if we don't get back soon, the governor is going to get suspicious."

          "Y' worry too much, Paco. As long as we bring in supplies, he'll be none the wiser," Merle sighed.

          Daryl bumped his shoulder with his own. "Time t' step up your game, brother. The less time we're out there, th' better."

          "Call them in, Daryl," Carol said, squaring her shoulders as she rose from her seat. "We have to tell the rest of them what's going on and begin preparations."

          "Carol –" Rick began in a placating tone.

          She was quick to cut him off with an icy glare. "We are  _not_  keeping them in the dark about this. I know you don't want to create a panic, but this group is not going to keep vital information from each other. Between you, Shane and Daryl, the three of you will guide us right."

          Lori reached over and twined her fingers with his. "She's right, Rick. Secrets don't do anything but make us weak, and we need to be strong to survive this."

          He also knew it had the potential to cause a panic, and that was something he didn't want. On the other hand, Carol had unswerving faith in him to lead them with Shane and Daryl at his side. He could do this. At least he was trying to convince himself he could. Finally, he nodded.

          Merle slipped his arm around Carol’s shoulders and grinned. "Well, y' heard 'er! Y'all got plans t' make an' work t' do. Let's get started."

 

*.*.*

 

          Merle couldn't ever remember seeing anything more pitiful in his entire life. And that was saying something, considering how many times he'd had to get between Daryl and their old man. Sophia stood before him at the edge of camp, her arms crossed over her chest as if she were trying to hold herself together. Her obstinate little chin was lifted, and she was fighting to hold the tears from spilling over her lashes. Didn't she realize how hard it was for him to say goodbye to her? He was a cold miserable bastard. Anyone who'd ever met him would say the same. He could walk away and not give a damn about the havoc he was leaving behind. He could walk away unaffected … from anyone but her. Or he would've been able to before she'd come into his life.

          "Peach –"

          "I don't want you to go," she mumbled, her little voice breaking on a sob. Those doe-eyed blues lifted to him, and it felt like a knife to the ribs. "I'm scared."

          Merle dropped to a knee before her and opened his arms, pulling her into his chest as he buried his face against her shoulder. "There's no reason for y' t' be scared, Peach. Y' think yer daddy,"  _and gawd knew he never thought he'd see the day his baby brother became a daddy,_ "is gonna let anythin' happen t' y'?"

          She sniffled, her arms tight around his neck, clinging for dear life. "I don't want you and Marty and Martinez to go back there. It's not safe. What if that man finds out what you're doing and kills you? I'd rather have you with us on the road than dead behind a wall."

          He took her upper arms in a gentle but firm grip and moved her back enough to peer into her face. "Stop that shit right now, girl. Who am I?"

          "Merle Dixon," she frowned.

          "Ain't nothin' can kill a Dixon but a Dixon," he said sternly. "I'm goin' t' take that town an' make it a haven for y'. For y' an' yer mama and daddy, for Marty an' th' others. It's gonna be a home I couldn't make for Daryl when he was your age."

          Sophia was close to stamping her foot. "Can't you see all of that doesn't matter if I lose you?  _You_  are my home. You and mama and daddy and even Marty. It doesn't matter where we are. I'll run every day for as long and as fast as I can if it means having  _all_  of my family with me." The tears broke free to wash over her ashen cheeks as she cradled his stubbled jaw in her palms. "I love you, Merle."

          "Then y' oughtta understand why I'm doin' this, baby girl."

          "Merle, darlin', we really need t' go," Marty said softly, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

          He nodded. "I promise I'll come back t' y', Peach. Trust me."

          "I do." She swiped angrily at her tears. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd cried like that, and she hated herself for showing such weakness. She was a Dixon, and Dixon's didn't blubber like a baby. Sophia reached out and clasped Marty's hand in hers. "Take care of him for me? Keep him safe? He doesn't always think clearly when he lets his temper out."

          "Y' know I will," Marty assured her.

          Sophia dropped a kiss to his cheek and rested her hand over his heart. "Remember … be who you are  _here_ , not what the world tries to make you." She let him go and quickly buried her tear-stained face against her father, comforted when his strong arms wrapped securely around her.

          Daryl scowled darkly. He didn't like Merle leaving any more than Sophia did. "Two weeks, Merle. If I don't hear from y' in two weeks, we're comin' after y'."

          Merle took his pack from Marty and hefted it onto his shoulder. "Don't worry, baby brother. Jus' stick t' that map I gave y', an' I'll catch up t' y'."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl kept everyone busy with training while Rick had the unfortunate chore of convincing Hershel to leave the farm before the end of the week. He certainly didn't envy the man. Maggie and Glenn had gone along with him to help smooth things over, but it didn't look good. He'd sent Dale back atop the Winnebago for watch, even though the man had pulled third shift the night before. He wanted everyone out in the field that morning, pushing them harder than he had before. Now it was imperative they honed their skills, not knowing what they would encounter out on the road, and Daryl didn't want to risk any of their lives. He knew what it would do to his girls to lose one of them.

          Lori had balked, not wanting to run with the others, claiming she  _couldn't_  during her pregnancy. He'd pinned her with his most menacing stare, his posture threatening. It had caused her to shrink back a little, unsure how to take him like that when he'd never given her real cause to fear him before.

          "Y' tellin' me if we got a herd comin' down on us, what? Y' gonna hide? Y' gonna hope somebody swoops in an' saves yer ass?" he'd hissed. "Y' might not be able t' run out there with th' rest o' us, but y'  _will_  give it a stiff walk. Jus' 'cause y' got yerself knocked up, don't mean you're an invalid. You're too soft, woman! Get out there an' limber up them muscles. Get!"

          Her eyes had been the size of dinner plates by the time he'd been through with her. She'd grabbed Carol's hand and marched herself out into the field at a fast clip. Maybe she hadn't expected him to say anything because she was Rick's wife, maybe because she thought she was entitled due to her pregnancy. All he knew was that the walkers wouldn't discriminate once they'd set their sights on her.

          Daryl pushed them all a lot harder than he normally would. He made it clear to them they were responsible for their own safety. They couldn't take a chance someone would be there if they faltered. They had to be able to take care of themselves and be proficient with their weapons. He was a bit worried about Beth. The girl was far too timid for his tastes. He gave her a baseball bat Carl had found in the barn, so she could build up some upper body strength against the dummies T-Dog and Randall made for her to practice on.

          Rick seemed to perk up when he made it out to the field and saw the hard work the group was putting in. Daryl knew from the look on his face it hadn't gone well with Hershel. "He refused?" the hunter asked, nodding at Glenn and Maggie. "You two get on out there an' find a spot. It'd be best for y'all t' be paired together."

          Rick shook his head in disgust. "Yeah, he thinks whatever comes through we should be able to fend them off. He has no idea what it's really like out there. The dozen or so we encountered in town was nothing compared to what's coming if Marty is right."

          Daryl groaned inwardly as he moved along the edge of the field. "Carl, watch your flank!" he called. Andrea, Shane, Lori, Carol and Carl were fighting back to back in simulation, Randall, Sophia, T-Dog, Jimmy, Beth, Glenn, Maggie and Patricia playing the part of rabid walkers.

          "My what?!"

          Daryl threw up his hands in exasperation as Beth tackled the boy down to the ground. "Your flank!" he yelled, patting his right side. "Guard your fuckin' flank, boy! This ain't no game!" He turned back to Rick. "What're we gonna do about th' ol' man? We cain't just leave 'im here. If he stays, th' girls'll stay … Glenn. What a mess."

          Rick winced as Lori caught Randall in the nose. "We'll have to make him see reason. Maybe if we all talked to him at dinner … I don't know. He's as stubborn as they come."

          The redneck crossed his arms over his chest, a smirk forming on his lips. "I got some rope, an' y' never know … Carol might have some chloroform in that first aid kit o' hers."

 

*.*.*

 

          That night, the atmosphere at dinner was enough to give them all indigestion. Except for Daryl. He'd skipped lunch and had worked up a healthy appetite running all over the farm. First with training, then with packing and prepping. Rick was more than capable, with Shane's help, to convince Hershel to leave with them.

          The three of them sat at one end of the table, the farmer at the other. The rest of the group sat in the middle as the strained silence went on, only the clinking of china and cutlery breaking the stillness. Daryl jumped, his knee banging the table as Carol pinched his thigh. His smoky blue gaze swung to her, a dark scowl drawing his brows together.

          "Say something," she mouthed, casting him a pointed look.

          "Pass th' biscuits," he drawled. It was Rick's place to be the front man and do the talking. He wasn't going to open his mouth and take a chance of saying the wrong thing no matter how much his wife might want him to.

          That seemed to be all the encouragement Rick needed to clear his throat and start up the discussion once more. "Hershel –"

          Yet the man seemed to want nothing more to do with it. "Carol, you and Maggie did a lovely job on this pork loin," he changed the subject.

          Maggie beamed at her father. "Thank you, Daddy," she said, smiling gently at him. "There's no telling when we'll be able to try this dish again once we leave here."

          Beth winced as he slammed his fork down onto the table in a rare burst of temper. She and Lori had spent most of the afternoon – after an exhausting training session with Daryl – drying venison to make jerky to take with them.

          "We aren't leaving," Hershel insisted. "I'm not going to give up my home to go on the road. I've worked too hard –"

          "Fat lot of good that's going to do you when that herd sweeps through here like a plague of locusts," Shane grumbled. Andrea kicked him under the table, her pointy toed boots causing him to yelp.

          Patricia spooned some sweet peas onto her plate. "I don't know why you're puttin' up such a fuss, Hershel. It's not like you can't come back after the herd moves through. Hell, if you shore up the livestock in the barns and stables, there's no reason why they won't still be here. Garden might not be much after they've trampled it though."

          "You mean come back?" T-Dog said, a slow grin spreading over his face.

          "Why not?" Glenn agreed enthusiastically. "All we know is the herd is definitely headed this way. We really don't know how large it is. There's always a chance it might change course before it even gets here."

          Everyone joined in then with their own theories of what the herd would do. "This is all speculation at best," Rick said, raising his voice to be heard over everyone talking at once. "To be safe, I still think we should leave for say … two weeks …" He looked around to see everyone nodding in agreement. "Then we'll come back and assess the damage if there is any. Hershel?"

          "I suppose that will be acceptable," he conceded albeit grudgingly.

          "Let's take a vote then," Shane suggested.

          Daryl shot him a look of disgust. "I don't give a damn what y'all are doin'. Day after tomorrow, we're gone … me, Carol and Sophia. I ain't gonna wait 'til th' last minute t' leave an' get caught on th' driveway while those geeks are headin' in."

          Carol caught Rick's eye with her wide-eyed stare. She wouldn't argue with her husband when he was only thinking of their safety, but their leader needed to know he wouldn't wait. "We'll  _all_  have to make sure we're ready then, won't we, Rick?"

          Rick sat back. "Show of hands." Everyone was in agreement, even Hershel now that he knew they'd only be gone a short time.

          Shane rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "A'right!"

          "Everyone, get some rest. We've got a lot to do tomorrow," Rick warned. This new system was going to work under his, Shane's and Daryl's leadership, and everyone's input to come to a decision. For the first time in weeks, he felt as if there was hope for the future. Hope for the chance at living as well as their continued survival.

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol huffed as she heaved her belongings over the edge of the ladder to the hay-strewn floor of the loft. Only the light of the full moon was available to light her way as her eyes sought out her husband. He'd come out to the barn directly after dinner, the tense set of his shoulders worrying her. She knew he was coiled tighter than a caged panther with no outlet for release. He was trying so hard, had been since the quarry. It wasn't easy for him to curb his inner beast, but he was getting better. Situations such as these where he had no control seemed to test him to his breaking point, however.

          "Should you be smoking up here? Fire hazard and all."

          Daryl flicked the butt through the open bay doors to the dirt below and shrugged as he exhaled the thick blue smoke. He growled low in his throat as she made her way to him, his eyes heavily lidded, dangerous to all but her. She felt like prey caught in the hunter's snare. She swallowed thickly, unable to ignore the heat pooling low in her belly. "Are you ok?" she whispered, pressing the thermos of coffee into his hands.

          "It's usually me asking you that," he said with an ironic twist of his lips. He leaned forward, his eyes searching hers through the darkness. "Carol?"

          "Hmm?" she hummed nervously, her heart rate picking up.

          "Why're we whisperin'?" he asked, setting the thermos at his feet for later when he'd need it to stay awake.

          A breathy chuckle slipped past her lips as she lifted her chin obstinately and danced out of his reach to spread their bedroll over the hay. "I don't know. I suppose I still find myself a little leery of your temper. I know you'd never hurt me, so don't even think that. It's more like transference, I suppose."

          He frowned. "Trans – transfer what?"

          "Transference," she repeated. "When you get upset, it transfers to me and I feel it too." She came to stand next to him, looking out over the farm where it shone serenely under the moonlight. It was hard to imagine the horror coming. She sighed as he propped his crossbow against the wall and slipped his arms around her waist. It was absurd to think anything could harm her when she had him by her side.

          Daryl rested his chin on her shoulder, some of the tension melting away from his coiled muscles. "It looks strange out there with th' camp broken down. Though I s'pose it's nice Hershel let th' group move into th' house."

          "Except us," she smirked. Daryl had adamantly refused to be confined with the rest of them inside, packed in like a tin of sardines. "Sophia was excited to have a sleepover with Beth. They're becoming rather good friends."

          His fingers slipped beneath the hem of the navy tank top she wore under her leather jacket, skimming feather light over the warm flat plane of her belly. "Good. Least she's takin' a break from Carl."

          Carol snorted. "Are you still on about that, Pookie?"

          He rolled his eyes as he peeled the jacket off of her shoulders. His nose settled in the crook of her neck, his nostrils flaring as he breathed her in, his body tightening in response. "Mark m' words, woman … another year an' y' ain't gonna think they're so innocent. Then I'ma have t' kill that boy."

          She chuckled, finding pleasure in how protective he was over their daughter's virtue. "You never know; she might meet someone in the future to give Carl some competition."

          He growled threateningly at the very thought of having to guard his daughter's honor. This fatherhood thing wasn't all it was cracked up to be. "Gawd help us! The fuckers'll be linin' up."

          Carol leaned back against his chest, her head coming to rest against his shoulder as his fingers danced over her ribs. "Where will we go, Daryl? Have you a plan in mind for when we leave here?"

          He shrugged. "Maybe Griffin or Carrollton … ain't decided yet. Rick trusts me t' get us out o' here on th' clearest path. Those were on th' map Merle gave us, so either way we won't have t' worry about Blake for a while." She moaned as his warm breath fanned over the delicate whorl of her ear. "Why … y' scared?"

          "No. I'm never afraid when I'm with you," she breathed.

          She raised her arms as he drew her shirt over her head, tossing it to the side. Carol stood before him in her lacy bra, the navy color a dark contrast next to her creamy skin. His eyes traveled down the length of her, taking in her jeans and boots, her gun belt causing him to raise a brow. She looked sexy as fuck and didn't even realize it. His woman … his  _wife_  in all her glory. The blood raced through his veins, straight to his cock. His warm palm wrapped loosely around her throat, his thumb caressing the pulse point fluttering rapidly beneath her jaw.

          Carol bit her lip, reveling in the way his eyes darkened with desire. "Daryl …"

          He cut her off, his mouth slanting hotly over hers. He could feel his inner beast clawing its way to the surface to claim his mate. His chest rumbled, his heart sped, his hands tearing at the buckle of her belt. One thought prevalent in his mind …  _need_. God, how he needed her. Once they left the farm, who knew when he would be able to be with her like this again. He plundered the honeyed cavern of her mouth, drinking deeply of her sinful sweetness, unable to bite back a moan as his tongue slid sinuously alongside hers. It made him dizzy with lust.

          Carol was drunk on his kisses, teetering slightly as she kicked off her boots and shimmied out of her jeans. Her own hands were frantic as they whipped off his belt and tore open the button on his cargos. God bless him, no underwear, but she wasn't going to let herself get distracted by laundry just then. She squeaked as he lifted her suddenly, her back pressing into the rough wood. She made a slight sound of protest in the back of her throat when he made no move to enter her, content to wreak a path of fire over her neck to nip at her collarbone.

          His talented fingers dropped between them to tease her bundle of nerves, and he bit his lip, his eyes slamming closed when he felt how wet and ready she was for him. "Tell me whatcha want, woman," he whispered huskily. "Tell me."

          It was too much and not enough. Her core throbbed with the need to be filled by him, and yet he teased her. His fingers dug into the firm globes of her ass as he pressed against her, the head of his cock sliding over her clit until she thought she'd lose her head and scream the rafters down. "Daryl, please … inside!"

          Daryl's lips returned to hers, his teeth tugging gently at her lower lip as he shifted his hips and placed himself at her entrance. There he stayed as he leaned his head back enough to meet her gaze, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smug smile. He would never get enough of seeing her so frantic with wanton pleasure, knowing he'd brought her to such a state. She cried out in frustration as he slid forward another inch. Really, he didn't know where he mustered up the control not to slam himself into her wet, silken heat.

          Carol locked her heels behind him and bit down sharply on the prominent tendon in his neck, though it earned only a growl instead of what she'd truly been seeking. He rested his brow to hers, his labored breath fanning over her lips as he withdrew. She could have wept. And then it was all worth the wait as he kissed her deeply and snapped his hips forward, seating himself fully. The impact stole her breath and sent a shiver tremoring along her spine from the pure pleasure of it.

          " _Mine!"_  he growled lowly, his voice akin to a physical caress. She fluttered around him, a fresh wave of moisture soaking his cock as he rocked into her. His control was slipping, yet he still maintained a gentle pace. No matter how much the beast within him hounded him to  _take_ , he wouldn't allow himself to hurt her. Instead, he  _gave_  her everything her body craved.

          He held her gaze as he slipped an arm under her knee, changing the angle, needing to watch the shift and play of emotion on her lovely face, those deep blue pools of unmistakable love sucking at his soul. She keened, arching her back as his pace quickened.

          Carol fisted her hands in his hair, clinging to him. "Don't stop … don't hold back. I need you, Daryl," she panted and moaned as he seemed to go deeper than before. He dipped his head, catching one stiff peak between his teeth and tugging, sending her over the edge with a long, whining cry.

          His teeth sank into her shoulder to muffle a satisfied grunt as he felt her shatter around him, her tight inner walls clasping him, driving him over the precipice into his own orgasm. He dropped to his knees, tangled in his own pants, her legs still locked around his hips as he fought for breath.

          Carol rested limply against him, in no better shape, a smile tugging at her lips. "I could sleep for a week," she murmured, brushing her lips to his damp brow.

          "Uh-huh," he agreed, kissing her lips ever so softly. He dropped onto his back, pulling her atop him as his heart threatened to thunder out of his chest. "Y' can sleep if y' want, baby. I still got watch 'til Shane relieves me at one."

          "Why d'you think I brought our blankets?" she chuckled. "You won't have far to go when your shift is over." She pulled her tank top and underwear back on, but merely tossed her jeans, belt and boots over next to their bedding.

          He righted his own clothing and helped her to her feet. "G'on, woman. Get some sleep," he said, but refused to let go of her hand when she moved to pull away. Daryl caught her back to him and held her close for a moment, needing that one second longer before breaking their connection. "Love y'."

          Carol hummed, a smile curling her lips. "Love you, too."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please let me know what you think! Next time: Rick is impressed with the group's new skills. Time's up!


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Sorry I wasn’t able to post yesterday. I was out most of the day at a funeral (my husband’s dear aunt passed away) and I was exhausted when I got home. So, here it is, my darlings. Hope you enjoy!

 

 

          Rick yawned and rubbed at the knot of tension at his nape as he swung a leg up into the loft and approached Shane where he was standing in the open bay doors, the rifle slung across his back. "Hey, man," he called softly, his steps muffled across the hay.

          Shane turned and gave him a stiff nod. "Rick. S'matter? Couldn't sleep?" he asked neutrally. Things were getting better between them. Well, as long as they ignored the glaring question between them as to who was the father to Lori's baby. Rick had every claim to it, being her husband, and there was little Shane could do without a paternity test to fight him on it. What he _could_ do was be there for the babe, keep it safe and make sure he or she had a chance to grow up.

          The morning light was just beginning to tint the horizon in hues of violet and pink. "Lots to do today. I thought Beth and Sophia were relieving you this morning."

          Shane yawned and leaned a shoulder against the wall. "Another hour or so and they'll be along."

          Rick grimaced, hating the strain between them. Shane had been his best friend, his partner. He'd risked his life to save Lori and Carl; had even tried to get him out of that hospital to take him with them, and now they couldn't even have a conversation. He had to find some way to let it go, to put it behind him and move forward.

          "Think the women will be able to finish up packing supplies today? We're leaving with the Dixons tomorrow morning, right?" the deputy asked.

          Rick nodded. "Yeah. The packing needs to be finished and the livestock needs to be locked up. Hershel says there should be enough feed to leave for them until we can get back this way."

          Shane swiped a hand over his face, trying to banish some of the fatigue plaguing him. "Man, there's no guarantee there's even going to be anything left standing. If it is, this place isn't gonna be easy to fortify. It's just so big."

          "I made Hershel a promise, though. We have to at least come back to make sure."

          "We're going to need fuel. We can't just leave and hope to get far on the fumes we got in the vehicles," he said.

          Rick leaned against the opposite wall and stared out over the verdant farmland. "I was thinking about that. When we were in town last week, Glenn pointed out a few of the buildings on Main Street. One was a little corner gas station. There was a fuel truck parked out front. There's a good chance that group Randall was with could've drained the truck, but the main fuel tanks of the store could still be full. There'd be more than enough to fill our tanks and the extra cans we have on hand."

          "That's a good idea," Shane agreed. "Should be a lot easier than trying to siphon on the highway. You gonna put together a run team?"

          "Yeah. I wanted to talk to Daryl about it. See who he thinks should go." He frowned. "He and Carol didn't come in from their shift last night. Any idea where I can find him?"

          Shane grinned and pointed to the other side of the loft about halfway down where a pile of blankets was next to the wall. "Carol was already asleep when I came to relieve them last night. Daryl climbed in with her when I got here."

          "Thanks." Rick couldn't help but smile as he neared the pair. Carol was lying on her back, dead to the world with Daryl sprawled across her, his head buried under the blanket and one bare foot peeking from beneath the quilt.

          "What? No coffee?" Daryl asked as he rolled onto his side and sat up, making sure not to pull the quilt off of his wife. "What kinda friend are y', huh?" He'd been awake since Rick had climbed the ladder, having heard the man's failed attempts to be quiet. He could have gotten up, but had been reluctant to leave the warm nest he shared with Carol.

          Rick chuckled. "Patricia was just starting a pot when I came out here. Sorry."

          Daryl waved him off as Carol snorted softly and rolled onto her side, slinging her arm around his waist and burying her face in his hip. "Is it time to get up?"

          He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. "Only if y' want t’, woman." His gaze found Rick's in the pre-dawn light. "So, what's up? Y' ready t' get started with what we gotta do today?"

          Rick settled down on his haunches, twisting a piece of straw between his fingers. "Shane and I were talking. I think we need to make a run into town for fuel. It'll be easier than trying to find it out on the road, y'think? There's a gas station I believe might have enough for our vehicles."

          "A'right," Daryl nodded, chewing the inside of his lip. "Who's goin'?"

          Their leader shrugged noncommittally. "You, me, Glenn, Maggie and T? I figured the five of us could handle it easily."

          The hunter's eyes narrowed. "An' Carol. She goes with me, Rick." He knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate if she was left behind. Sophia had watch, and would be safely tucked away in the loft until they returned.

          "Daryl …" she groaned, blinking up at him. "I need to help with the packing."

          "Y' heard me, Carol. 'Sides, it'll do y' good t' have some run experience. Put all those new skills t' use. Y' ain't gonna learn otherwise," he said definitively.

          "You don't think at least one of Sophia's parents need to be here for her?" she argued.

          He shook his head. "If she had free time where she had a chance t' get into some kinda trouble, then yeah. But she's gonna be on watch. Y' know our girl ain't gonna leave her post. We need t' show 'er we trust her."

          Rick rose to his feet as Carol rolled over and reached for her boots. "Great. Looks like we're going to town."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl's eyes flickered up to the rearview mirror to watch the caravan following behind them. He and Carol were in the lead, sitting cozily on the bench seat in his old truck. Rick followed in Hershel's suburban, Glenn and Maggie in the Hyundai, and T-Dog brought up the rear in Patricia's blue pick-up. He was hoping everything went smoothly in town on their fuel run, but a prickle of unease hummed below his skin. Carol would be exposed to danger, and the others would be putting their new skills to use if they ran into any walker activity. If they failed, it would be on his shoulders since he'd been responsible for their training so far.

          "Stop worrying, Pookie," Carol said softly, interrupting his reverie as she twined her fingers with his. "It's going to be fine."

          "Pfft," he scoffed. "Y' clairvoyant now or somethin'?"

          "Well, I'm not going into this thinking the worst. I'm going to trust in everything you've taught us," she said with an air of confidence she hadn't had even a month ago.

          He chewed anxiously on his lower lip, his brows drawing together darkly. "Don't get cocky, woman," he warned. "When we get there, y' need t' stay close t' me. No more than ten feet, y' hear? Weapons hot, safety off. Y' keep your eyes an' ears open an' don't even think about takin' any unnecessary chances."

          "Daryl –"

          "No! Y' don't 'Daryl' me in that tone! I want y' t' listen t' what I say."

          Carol sighed, feeling the slight tremor in his hand. She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles and shot him a serious look. "You are my partner, Daryl. I will defer to you … I promise." She felt him relax just a bit as she rested her head against his shoulder. "Baby … you've got to stop worrying so much. You realize I can get into trouble no matter where I am … even if I'm standing right next to you. You can't let your fear make you careless. You have to trust me to keep myself safe."

          Daryl clenched his teeth. He knew what she was saying was true. He was letting himself panic over nothing. Just the thought of losing her prayed heavily on his every waking moment. It was going to cause him to slip up if he weren't careful. He had to have faith in her. "I do trust y'," he mumbled, giving her hand a squeeze. "I know y' can do it. You're th' best I got t' have m' back. Y' scared?"

          "I'm nervous," she admitted. "But I trust in my new skills, and I trust in  _you_."

          "A'right. Cain't really ask more than that. Jus' remember what I said, an' stay close."

          His gaze swept over Main Street as he slowed to a crawl, taking in the abandoned store fronts. Not only was he on the lookout for walkers, but any sign of Randall's old group as well. The living were more dangerous than the dead now.

          Daryl pulled into the lot of the gas station, the rest of them following, parking their vehicles pointed towards the street for a quick exit. He lifted the crossbow from the bed of the truck and affixed the strap across his chest as Carol climbed out behind him. She released the clasp on her knife, ready to remove it from the sheath quickly if there was a need, and then checked both of her handguns to make sure the safety was off.

          Rick signaled the others to follow him to the tanker, and Carol fell into step slightly behind Daryl to his left. He checked the gauges on the tanker trailer, but they were showing empty. "He must've abandoned his truck just after unloading."

          "Either that, or he was eaten," Maggie said, wrinkling her nose.

          "That ain't gonna make it easy on us," T-Dog said, setting two of the gas containers down at his feet. "What if we use the pump on the rig to pull it back into the tank and then drive it back to the farm?"

          Daryl shook his head. "Pump's gonna make too much noise. It'll draw in any walkers in th' area."

          Glenn frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "How're we going to get it then? I don't think the siphoning hoses are going to work. They're just not long enough."

          Carol dropped to her knees and lifted up the metal cover, peering down into the underground tank. "Rick, do you remember where you left the Cherokee when you drove it to town last week? There's a garden hose in the back we could probably use. It's longer than the siphoning hoses and it should work under the same premise, right, Daryl?"

          The hunter grinned. Leave it to her ingenuity to pull them up out of a pit of uncertainty. "Should work."

          Rick nodded at Glenn. "You and Maggie go. Be safe and stick together," he instructed. "Carol, we're going to fetch the gas cans from the trucks. Why don't you climb up on top of the tanker to keep watch? You should be able to see anything coming from up there."

          Daryl nodded approvingly at Rick. The man seemed to sense Daryl's apprehension where Carol's safety was concerned, and this was a good way to provide them a lookout and keep her out of harm's way at the same time.

          Within twenty minutes, Maggie and Glenn had returned with the garden hose and Daryl had it in the tank and pumping out the fuel into the gas cans. The four of them took turns running them back to the vehicles and filling the tanks. Once they were full, they concentrated on filling the cans to bring back to the farm to fill up the RV and have some extra on hand.

          Carol paced atop the tanker, her sharp eyes making a circuit of their surroundings. She knew she had to be vigilant. Adrenaline already pumped harshly through her body. It was a risk to be away from the farm. Which was why she had to fight for a breath when she saw the dozen or so walkers amble out onto Main Street from a side alleyway.

          "Daryl!" she hissed, keeping her voice low, but loud enough for him to hear. "We might need to wrap this up … now!" She pointed in the direction she'd seen them, and she could see her husband tighten with tension.

          "Rick, finish these three cans. We got this," he said, his body eager with anticipation for the fight. "Carol, you're with me." He looked back at the others. He could tell they were ready to show off what they could do. T-Dog rolled his big head on his neck, the muscles in his arms bunching as he released the machete from his belt.

          The geeks had already scented them, quickening their pace to the fresh meat which had stumbled into their midst. Carol zipped her jacket and withdrew her knife. Glenn and Maggie were geared with their own. Daryl led the charge, taking out the first with his crossbow, the arrow zinging softly through the air to take out the one in front. Carol, to his left, thrust out her hand, knocking one back before thrusting her knife beneath the chin as it bounced back towards her. Glenn and Maggie were just behind them, each confronting their own while keeping their backs to one another. T, bringing up the rear, trusted the others to have his own back and worked on two coming at him, arm's outstretched. He pushed one back as Daryl had trained him, and took out its partner before it could regain its balance to meet his blade.

          Within minutes, the combatants were splattered with thick black blood and walkers littered the street around them. Rick stared at them in amazement. "That was incredible," he remarked, stunned by what he'd witnessed. It was their training lessons amped up to the tenth power. "Daryl, what you've accomplished … Man, there's no words."

          Carol beamed at her husband as his left hand slipped into her right, his ears tinted a fiery red under their leader's praise. He ducked his head for a moment before raising his gaze to meet Rick's eyes. "Y' done? 'Cause I think it'd be a good idea t' get th' hell outta here before more of 'em show up."

          Rick rolled up the hose and tucked it in the back of Daryl's truck with most of the gas cans as the hunter slipped behind the wheel and prepared to roll out. Carol grinned over at him. "You just can't take a compliment, can you? Rick was rather impressed."

          Daryl concentrated his gaze on the road. "I ain't done nothin' that wasn't necessary. If it keeps these people alive … that's all that matters."

          "Because of you," she said earnestly. "Let yourself feel proud, Pookie.  _I'm_  proud of you."

          His lips quirked up in the faintest of smiles. Her approval was all he needed.

 

*.*.*

 

          "Eww, Mama, what happened to you?" Sophia asked, wide-eyed as she took a step back. She had just been about to hug her parents when she noticed the gore on their clothes. "And you smell awful." She wrinkled her nose, causing Carol to laugh.

          Daryl shook his head at her. "We mighta run into a few walkers in town. Nothin' we couldn't handle, though."

          "Ugh!" Carl grimaced. "Y'all need a bath."

          Carol looked down at herself, more than ready to get the filth off of her. "I'd have to agree. I can't see myself working this afternoon on the packing covered in this mess." She gave Daryl a push towards the house. "And we'd better hurry if we're going to have hot water."

          "I'm jus' gonna get dirty again helpin' move th' livestock," he protested.

          Sophia followed them onto the porch, passing by the stacked boxes which would have to be transferred to the back of the trucks. "Yeah, but a little sweat and dirt is better than walker guts."

          "Want us to grab you some clean clothes from your packs so we can wash those and get them hung?" Carl asked.

          Daryl arched a brow at the boy. Carl's attitude had changed since Sophia had gotten onto him about 'women's work' being 'everyone's work' back at the CDC.

          "That would be lovely, Carl. Thank you," Carol smiled down at him. "We'll leave our dirty clothes out in the hall. Sophia, just put our fresh ones on the sink, ok?"

          "Sure, Mama, but when you're done … we want details. At our age, and Daddy's valiant need to protect us, we have to miss out on everything and have to live vicariously through you."

          Daryl poked his head back out of the bathroom. "Merle was right … you  _are_  a brat."

          The girl shrugged. "Yeah, but you love me anyway."

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol smiled sweetly at her husband as she stepped out onto the porch wrapped up in her quilt. "Aren't you cold?" she asked, noticing he was only wearing his vest over a thick long sleeved denim shirt. The evening was turning chilly now the sun had set. He'd opted to take watch on the front porch, Dale was atop the RV, Glenn was on the back steps and Rick was in the loft.

          "Naw, I'm good," he murmured, pulling her down in the vee of his legs to sit one step below him. She settled herself with a contented hum, pressing back against his chest and wrapping her hands around his left arm, leaving the right one free for his bow should he need it. "Y' ain't tired? Y' should try t' get some rest, woman."

          She couldn't deny the fatigue which pressed down heavily upon her. After their trip to town that morning, she'd come back to find the ladies had barely made a dent on the pantry. She could understand the nerves plaguing them, but it was no excuse not to get the work done. She and Patricia had gotten them organized in no time, and now the trucks were loaded and ready to leave first thing in the morning. If she were honest, she'd have to admit she felt a bit nervous herself. There was no way of knowing what they'd encounter out there on the road.

          "You know I don't sleep well without you, Daryl," she said around a huge yawn.

          Her husband smiled and let his lips ghost over her temple. "I'm here now," he murmured lowly, tightening his arm around her. "Close your eyes an' try t' rest. Don't want y' too tired when we leave in th' mornin'."

          Daryl relaxed against the hand rail there on the steps, and before long he could hear her deep even breaths. His little wife worked entirely too hard. It was one of the things he admired most about her. She was so strong, so eager to have her own needful role in the group. But it was his job to make sure the others didn't take advantage of her. It was easy for them to overlook their chores and let Carol have free reign. She never complained, and would rather do something herself than 'bother' one of the others by asking for help.

          He had to find a safe place for her and their daughter, for Carl and Lori and the rest of them, until Merle came through with his own plans. There was something – somewhere – out there for them. He knew there was. They hadn't survived this long without some reason. Their group was meant to be together, to survive – to live – together. Some higher power – at least in Carol's opinion – wanted this.

          Daryl pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes against the pressure building behind his eyes. What he wouldn't do for some decent sleep. He focused his senses on the muffled sounds behind him where the group – those who weren't on watch – lounged in the den. It was late, but everyone was still a bit excited about the move tomorrow. He could just make out Carl, Sophia and Beth playing some board game his daughter had refused to pack just yet. He grinned when Carl began arguing with Jimmy about Colonel Mustard and a candlestick.

          He was so lost in his reverie; he didn't quite register what he was seeing. No! No, no, _no_! It was too soon … He shook Carol awake, keeping his voice low. The walkers emerging from the tree line were slow moving, not having picked up the scent of humans yet. "Carol!" he hissed. "Wake up, woman!"

          She jerked awake, instantly alert to the danger, feeling it radiating from his tense body at her back. "How many?" was the only thing she asked.

          "Too many! C'mon, we have t' tell th' others." He grabbed her hand and led her inside, counting heads as he marched into the den. "They're here!"

          "What?" Hershel asked, rising from his chair.

          "The herd. We gotta get everybody together. We're leavin'  _now_!"

          Andrea shot to her feet and strapped her pack on, running for the door. "I'll get Dale," she called over her shoulder.

          Shane was already reaching for his shotgun. "I'll go meet Rick. Everybody, get to the vehicles. Don't waste time! Move!"

          Carol watched him running hell bent down the dirt path to the barn. She could only pray Rick had seen them coming and was already down out of the loft. Once they caught the scent of the living, they'd be picking up the pace and there would be no escaping them. "Daryl …"

          Carl and Sophia abandoned the game and reached for their bows. "My dad … Daryl, what if –"

          Lori reached for her pack, slinging it over her shoulder and taking his hand. "He'll make it, Carl. Don't even think otherwise."

          T-Dog came sprinting down the hall from the kitchen. "They're coming from the trees on two sides. We gotta go now or we're gonna be trapped here."

          "Fuck!" Daryl ushered the kids and Lori to the front door and out onto the porch, reaching for Carol's hand behind him. He felt like he was herding cattle as they made the yard.

          The herd was pressing up against the fence closest to the barn, their weight buckling the wood, the barbed wire doing nothing to slow them down. Rick and Shane were going to be cut off if they didn't hurry. They were dangerously close to overtaking the yard. Daryl stopped as he heard Andrea scream. He had to pull Carol back to his side as she took a step in that direction to go help her friend.

          "Are y' insane!? Get yer ass t' th' bike!" he yelled, shoving her in that direction as he pulled the glock from his waistband and fired at a walker inching a little too close to Patricia. "Sophia!" He'd lost sight of her in the melee. "Sophia!" The panic was rising to choke him. Where was his daughter?!

          "Oh, god, Daryl … where are the kids?!" Carol cried, firing off to the left as a geek ambled around the side of the house.

          "There!"

          Randall had Carl by the collar and another arm around Sophia's waist, thrusting them into the Hyundai and crawling in after them. The boy had just proven himself to Daryl by ensuring the children's safety. Glenn was already diving into the driver's seat, Maggie into the passenger side.

          Hershel took a stance at the bottom of the steps, covering the others as they spilled off the porch, his rifle blazing hot. T-Dog had a firm grip on Patricia's arm, pulling her along behind him. When she stumbled over a fallen walker, he tossed her over his shoulder and sprinted towards Daryl's truck, shoving her inside. Beth screamed, her shrieks filling the air. Daryl left Carol there next to his bike and ran across the lawn, prying her off Jimmy who was fighting off one of the dead.

          Tears streamed over the girl's face, and he could see the huge bite mark in the boy's shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her away as she cried for the loss of her love, steering her towards the truck. Glenn was driving around the property like a madman while Carl stood in the open sunroof firing off arrows. Sophia was hanging out the rear window using Merle's handgun, trying to take out as many as she could. Daryl handed Beth off to T-Dog and ran to the bike. He could see Lori pulling Hershel towards the suburban.

          The triumph roared to life and he felt a measure of comfort as Carol wrapped her arms around his waist. He sped off towards the barn, scattering the walkers in his path, all the while looking for Rick and Shane. He caught sight of their leader fighting his way towards Otis' old blue pickup, and huffed out a breath of relief when the man threw himself behind the wheel.

          "Where's Shane, Daryl?" Carol called over the noise of the engine. "I didn't see him!" He winced as her nails dug into his chest as she clung to him.

          "We cain't wait. There's too many of 'em. They all know to meet up on the highway if we get separated."  _We'll find out how many we lost then,_  he added silently. He followed tail lights ahead of him, not sure who he was trailing after. He just knew he had to get his wife away from the death surrounding them. He took comfort in knowing their daughter was safe somewhere ahead of them. How many more would they lose that night … and how would they find the strength to move on without them?

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Gawd! I hate writing action scenes. I hope I didn't do too badly. Please leave me a comment or review letting me know what you think :D I'm thankful to each and every one still reading and reviewing. Next time: The group reconnects and plans their next move.


	47. Chapter 47

 

          "Fuckin' Christ!" he cursed as Carol's nails dug sharply into his chest and side as he took a corner too sharply. It was a struggle to maneuver the darkened dirt lane around more and more walkers. He skidded to the left in a patch of uneven Georgia clay and felt his heart drop to his feet. He couldn't allow himself to lose control and lay the Triumph down. The geeks milling about, littering the sides of the road – in some places the very center of the damn road – didn't seem to be thinning at all. Had they somehow driven right into the center of the herd?

          The back tire found traction and the bike shot forward. Carol pressed her face between his shoulder blades, practically quivering with fright. He hoped she wasn't going into shock, and sent up a silent prayer she'd stay warm under the quilt tied at her shoulder toga style. His eyes frantically searched for the tail lights which had been in front of them moments before. Where the hell had they disappeared to? And how was he going to find them?

 

*.*.*

 

          Glenn slammed on the brakes of the Hyundai and Carl toppled onto Maggie's lap. His bow slammed into the side of her head, but it didn't seem to faze her. Tears streamed over her lashes, her gaze locked with Glenn's as she fought to breathe. Carl slipped off of her and climbed into the back seat. Sophia hurriedly pulled herself in from the back window, putting the 9mm back into the holster her father had made for her and rolling up the glass. She shared a look with her friend and then reached into the front seat to rest her hand on Maggie's shoulder.

          "They're gonna be fine, Maggie," she said, fighting to keep the tremor out of her voice. She was worried about her parents, but she wasn't going to give up hope. If anyone would make it out, it would be Daryl, and where Daryl was … her mother was surely to be close to his side.

          A sob ripped from Maggie's throat as Glenn pulled her into his arms. "She's right. Your dad, Patricia, Beth … all of them. They're going to make it."

          "We don't even know where they are," she sobbed hysterically against his neck.

          "The highway!" Carl butted in, his head appearing between the seats. "Where we left the sign for Sophia. That's where we should go. I heard Dad talking to Daryl and Shane about meeting there if we got in a jam and got separated."

          Randall stared at him as if he'd lost his senses. "You sure, kid?"

          Glenn wiped away Maggie's tears and put the car in gear. "Yeah … that's where we'll go. We'll wait for the others there." He reached over and twined his fingers with hers as she stared numbly out the windshield. "They'll be there … you'll see."

          Sophia reached into her pack and passed a bottle of water up front. "They will, Maggie."

 

*.*.*

 

          T-Dog muttered under his breath and pounded a hand on the steering wheel, cursing Merle Dixon and his rag tag bunch of informants. "He said we had a week! That sure as fuck wasn't no damn week," he grumbled.

          Patricia shot him a dry look. "Did he look like he'd gotten walker migration down to an exact science, Theodore? Because frankly, he don't look like the studious type." She petted Beth's hair and shushed her softly.

          "I want Daddy," the girl wailed against Patricia's shoulder.

          "Theodore will get us back to Hershel and Maggie, sweetie. Just be patient," she soothed.

          His features softened as he reached out and covered Patricia's hand with his. She was one of the strongest women he'd ever met. He'd make damn sure she and her charge got back to their family. He liked the little spitfire and her resilient nature, liked even more the way she always smiled at him before making him feel like a complete dumbass. He wanted to be her friend because she made him laugh, and god knew there wasn't enough laughter in the world anymore.

          "She's right, Bethie. You just hang on for a little longer." He stepped on the gas.

 

*.*.*

 

          Hershel sat down on the bumper of the suburban, his rifle resting across his legs as he watched Lori pace the asphalt, wringing her hands. He was more than a little amazed she'd been able to find her way back to the highway where they'd broken down weeks before. She didn't appear to him to be the type who traveled without a GPS at hand.

          "Where are they?" she murmured shakily, her eyes drifting along the silent roadway. She stopped her pacing and scrubbed her hands over her face, the pre-dawn light gently filtering over the horizon. She didn't know how long they'd driven. It seemed every path they had taken had been blocked, leaving them to backtrack and detour around. The others should've been there by now. "I know … I know they got out, Hershel. I saw them!"

          "You can't think that way. This group is strong. They knew what to do. You have to give them time, is all," he tried to soothe her.

          Her hand hovered over the knife on her hip as she heard a faint noise in the distance. She inched over closer to the farmer and peered around the side of the Chevy. A lone walker shuffled along some yards away. If need be, she would be able to handle it before it was a threat. If she couldn't, she was sure she'd never hear the end of it from Daryl.

          Lori remained still, keeping an eye on the walker as it wandered off into the trees. Without realizing it, she slumped in relief against the old truck. Hershel wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her down to sit next to him on the bumper, and the deluge of tears she'd been holding back spilled from beneath her closed lids. She wept, unable to fight off the pain clawing at her chest, and rising in her throat to choke her.

          "Listen …" Hershel whispered.

          The unmistakable sound of the Triumph slowly penetrated the fog of agony enveloping her and she drew in a shaky breath. Her head popped up, her eyes searching the distance, and she covered her mouth with her hands to hold in the hysterical laughter threatening to bubble from her lips. Daryl and Carol led the way, Glenn, Maggie and the kids behind them. As she watched, T-Dog, Patricia and Beth closed the distance, Rick not far behind.

          "Mom!" Carl cried as he climbed over Randall's lap to spill out of the Hyundai, running hell bent for his mother. He threw himself at her, his little arms wrapping tightly around her neck as she dropped to her knees. "Dad!" Rick joined them on the road, kissing his wife's cheek and winding his arms around both of them.

          "Thank god you're safe … both of you!" he stuttered, overcome with weakness in his relief.

          "Randall got us in the car, Dad. He saved us. Glenn was driving like a maniac, and me and Sophia were shooting at the walkers, but there was just too many of them," he explained.

          Lori sobbed against Rick's shoulder as she beamed a proud smile at her son. "You did amazingly well, Carl."

          "You really did, son."

          Daryl glared at Randall over the top of Sophia's head, despite the elbow he took to the ribs from Carol. They held their daughter between them, looking her over for injury.

          "Jeez, Mama, I'm fine. I hit my funny bone on the window jamb and nearly dropped Merle's gun, but I'm ok!" she groaned.

          Carol hugged her closer. "I was so scared. I should've known you would be right in the middle of the action."

          Sophia grinned impishly. "'Course … I'm a Dixon, after all."

          Daryl passed by Hershel where the man was looking over his own daughters, making sure they were alright. Randall shrank back into the side of the Hyundai when the hunter stopped before him, an unreadable expression on Daryl's face. The boy wished the pavement would open up and swallow him whole.

          "I-I-I got the k-kids out," he whimpered, staring down at his feet.

          "I know that," Daryl growled, refusing to let go of his ill feelings just yet. "This how it's gonna be? Y' gonna continue t' keep an eye on our kids? Try t' be a useful part o' this group?"

          Hope gleamed in Randall's eyes. It was more than Daryl had ever said to him at one time. "I-If you let me."

          "Don't make me regret it." Daryl left the boy standing there, color tinging his face as he noticed the bright smile on the faces of both his girls. He rolled his eyes and gnawed on his lip, hoping no one noticed.

          Glenn frowned as he took a head count, his eyes meeting T-Dog's where he stood next to the truck with Patricia. "Where's Shane and Andrea? Dale and Jimmy?"

          T-Dog shot a sympathetic look at Beth. "Jimmy didn't make it. He was trying to get Beth to the truck and …"

          Carol looked up at her husband. "Oh, god. We have to go back!"

          "We can't go back," Rick said as Lori looked at him aghast. "They have the RV. They might have gotten turned around."

          "We can't just leave them there!" Lori hissed stone-faced. "We don't leave our people behind."

          "And if we go back, it's suicide! There are supplies in the Winnebago, weapons, fuel. They know where we're going.  _If_  they're able, they'll find us," he said, taking a firm grip on her upper arms. "You know they will."

          Hershel held tightly to Beth as she continued to grieve against his chest. "We can't stay here. It's not safe."

          Daryl nodded. "He's right. We need to go. Shane knows the plan."

          With one last look down at his wife's angry gaze, Rick ushered her to the suburban. "Let's go."

 

*.*.*

 

          "Are we there yet?" Carl whined from the backseat of the suburban. He, Sophia and Randall were riding with Rick and Lori, T-Dog and Patricia were together in her truck, Hershel and his daughters were in the Hyundai and Glenn was driving Daryl's truck, so he and Carol could ride the bike.

          Rick banged his hand against the steering wheel. It had been one detour after another as they tried to travel northwest towards Griffin. It was the furthest town Merle had cleared from Woodbury. Now if they could only find a house or warehouse … something or anything … to get them through the next two weeks. They'd stayed off the main highways as much as possible, the snarl of cars nearly impassable. Daryl seemed to know more about the backroads of Georgia than anyone Rick had ever met. He knew it stemmed from the man working odd jobs following Merle from one town to the next after the elder Dixon's stint in the army. Lori was coming to know a lot about the hunter from what Carol had shared with her.

          "No, Carl," he said, rubbing his index finger below his bottom lip as he frowned down at the fuel gauge. "We won't be there until Daryl signals us to stop. Or we run out of fuel. Whichever comes first."

          Lori squinted over at him. "Are we low? If we are, you can bet the others are too."

          Sophia shifted where she was dozing with her head on Randall's shoulder. "Toot the horn and make Dad stop if you need to. Won't it mess with the engine if you run it completely out before fillin' up again?"

          Rick smiled at her in the rearview mirror and laid on the horn for a quick burst of sound. Lori looked relieved. "God knows we could all use a quick stretch. How d'you know about engines, Sophia? Daryl teach you?"

          The girl grinned proudly and nodded.

          Daryl immediately pulled off to the side and grabbed his bow before helping Carol off. Sophia hopped out of the suburban and hurried over to her father. "What's up, Soph? Everything ok back there?" he asked, noting she had her bow with her.  _Good girl._

          Rick made his way to Daryl's truck and reached in for a fuel can. "I think everyone needs to fuel up. Quickly and quietly," he stressed. "While we're stopped, maybe take a bathroom break. We don't know when we'll be stopping again."

          "I'll go clear an area for the women," Daryl offered.

          Patricia checked the .38 Rick had given her from the gun bag earlier and tucked it into the waistband of her cargos. "Thank the lord! My back teeth were about to float off."

          Lori and Carol chuckled softly, waiting for Daryl to emerge from the tree line with the all clear. It didn't take him long to deem it safe for such a short time, and the women quickly made their way into the trees while Daryl and Glenn stood guard. T-Dog, Rick and Randall filled the tanks and stood guard on the road until they returned.

          Carol leaned against the bike and stretched as she watched Sophia climb back into the suburban with Carl. Her daughter was already rooting in her pack for something for them to snack on. She grinned at Randall, handing him a rice krispies treat and a bottle of Gatorade. Carol was so glad she hadn't been wrong about the boy. He treated Sophia as if she were his sister, and knew her girl was in good hands.

          A familiar arm wrapped around her waist and she leaned into her husband's chest as Rick followed and pulled out the map. "I'd say we have another hour or so before we reach the outskirts. Even though it's a small town, I don't think we should venture too far in today."

          "Naw, we need t' look for somethin' outside the town limits. There'll be some suburbs, but we wanna only try those as a last resort. We need t' look for somethin' outta th' way."

          "I don't care where we end up, to be honest," Carol said. "Just somewhere we can rest. I'm exhausted, and I still need to get everyone fed."

          "We got jerky an' stuff t' tide us over," Daryl assured her. "Stop yer worrying, woman."

          Rick nodded. "Let's get going. We don't know what it's going to be like further down the road."

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol climbed into the front seat of the suburban next to Lori and locked the door behind her. She grinned at the children over her shoulder. It was a waiting game now to see if the house they'd found would be suitable to keep them safe for a week or so. Daryl had nearly passed the driveway it was so overgrown and hidden unless you were practically on top of it. Before the turn, someone had wanted to maintain their privacy from the world.

          She had expected a modest little shack back in the woods, not the expansive colonial hidden among the majestic oaks. There was no fence to protect them, but the house looked well taken care of. Rick, Daryl, Hershel, Glen and T-Dog had left them in the vehicles to wait while they checked it out and cleared it of any walkers inside.

          "It could have gone a lot faster if they'd let us go with them and help," Carl pouted. "I'm a good shot. I could have helped; Sophia too."

          Lori turned in her seat to look at her son. "Your dad said no. He didn't make that decision lightly, and he wasn't just trying to protect you because he's your father. He made that choice as the leader of our group and Daryl backed him on it." She smiled gently to lessen the small set down. "You have to trust him and not question his decisions."

          "Right," Carol agreed with a smile. "That's our job."

          Lori chuckled. "Yeah, you didn't look too happy about it either."

          "My husband is rather overprotective. We'd be inside already if they'd have let us help."

          Sophia watched out the window. Already the sky was darkening as the sun sank lower behind the trees. "I really hope they have well water. Being this far out, it's possible. I'm dying for a shower."

          Lori nodded. "It would be a cold shower, honey, but running water would definitely be a blessing."

          Randall leaned in with the other two and peered out the front towards the big front porch. "I wonder how long we'll be able to stay here. Y' think it's safe?"

          Before Carol could hazard a guess, Daryl stepped out onto the porch and whistled, waving them forward. The kids shouldered their packs and weapons, and shot off towards the hunter for instructions on where to go. Carol grabbed her own gear, leaving the majority of their supplies in the vehicles until she could talk to her husband. He twined his fingers with hers, pulling her into the foyer with him.

          Rick was coming down the stairs, telling T-Dog and Glenn to start with getting the bedding from the suburban and a box of foodstuffs from Daryl's pickup. He stopped at the bottom step, taking in Carol and Lori's expectant faces. "I think we might be able to stay here until we're able to go back to check on the farm. There were no cars around back, and from the looks of things upstairs, the new owners had just been moving in. There are a lot of things still in boxes."

          "Moving in?" Lori asked.

          "Found some paperwork in th' study. Looks like they'd just finished up with th' purchase," Daryl supplied. He pointed to the left of the stairs. "Down there's th' study, dinin' room, kitchen … t' th' right is a master bedroom an' some rooms ain't got nothin' in 'em. There's also a stairway leads down into the basement. I already claimed it for me an' m' girls."

          Carol frowned. He knew she hated being underground. "The basement, Daryl? Really?"

          He sighed. "Always questionin' me, woman," he grumbled. "There's a bedroom, bathroom, an' outside entry down there. Figured it would do us." Daryl nodded to Rick. "I'm gonna do a walk around, see what I can find."

          "Sounds good. I'll take first watch out front," their leader told him.

          "I'll go see about starting dinner. Lori, make sure someone grabs the camp stove and some sterno, ok?" Carol said, following Glenn with the foodstuffs down the hall.

          Lori took an armful of bedding from T and sent him out to fetch what Carol had asked for. She set it down next to the stairs, deciding to deal with it later, and followed her husband out onto the porch. He was there next to the railing on the right side of the porch, slumped dejectedly against the bannister, his chin resting on his chest. Her heart went out to him. She could literally see the weight he carried on his shoulders.

          "Where's Carl?" he asked, looking up to find her there at his side.

          She stuffed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and rocked back on her heels, not knowing if he'd appreciate her touch just now. "He and Sophia are carting our stuff inside and making beds. They're trying to keep busy, as usual. You know they can't sit still for long," she grinned.

          "That's good," he murmured, still not meeting her worried gaze. "Good to stay busy so they don't have to think too hard."

          "Like you?"

          Rick flinched. "What the hell am I doing, Lori? I never asked for any of this!" he hissed, remembering to keep his voice lowered. The rest of the group didn't need to be privy to his insecurities.

          "Of course, you didn't," she conceded. "Neither did Shane, but it's just who you are, Rick. He couldn't leave them all behind on that highway any more than you could abandon them now. You may not have wanted to be the leader of this group, but Shane stepped back when you joined us because you were the senior partner. He looks to  _you_  to lead because he won't take the same risks you will."

          "And it may have gotten him killed, Lori."

          She could hear the pain in his voice, the loss and grief. "He's not dead. They'll find us. Look at Merle Dixon … he found his family. There's no reason Shane, Andrea and Dale can't find us."

          Rick wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and buried his face against the crook of her neck, drawing comfort from his wife. "He's my best friend. I owe him so much and yet I've treated him horribly the last few weeks."

          "There were extenuating circumstances."

          "I could've been a better man and let it go. Now I don't know if I'll ever be able to make things right. How am I supposed to do this without him?  _He_  formed this group. I need him to help me lead it."

          Lori rubbed at the knot of tension at his nape, trying to soothe him. "He will. You're not alone, Rick. Daryl and Hershel; Glenn and T … they're all here to help you. You just have to ask for help instead of bottling this all up inside and struggling on your own. If you do, it'll just drive you mad."

          He sighed and leaned back against the bannister, pulling her into the vee of his legs. "I don't want them to think I'm weak."

          Her fingers trailed along the side of his stubbled jaw as she smiled up at him. "It's not a sign of weakness to ask for advice. You're not a dictator there, Castro."

          Rick laughed. "No, and I don't want to be."

          "If you need to, talk to Daryl. He's got your back," she encouraged. "And if you don't think you can, go to Carol. That woman is wonderful at solving problems. God knows she listens to enough of mine." She felt some of the tension release from his shoulders. "Feel better?"

          "Yeah … yeah, I do." He pulled her closer, his fingers weaving into her long dark hair. His lips closed over hers in a gentle kiss, the first they'd shared in a long time. It stole her breath out of surprise, but she didn't hesitate to respond to him. When he pulled away, he rested his brow to hers. "I'm sorry, Lori. So sorry I pushed you away."

          A single tear trekked over her dusty cheek. "I understand how much I hurt you, Rick. You'll never know how sorry I am for what I did. Does this mean you forgive me?"

          "I already forgave you, baby. I just needed time. I don't want to waste anymore. If that's what you want, too?"

          Lori couldn't mistake the glimmer of hope in his clear blue gaze. She shot him a watery smile and nodded as he tucked her in close to his chest. The tightness she'd carried in her own for weeks eased finally as she clung to him. Carol had been right. All she'd had to do was be patient and wait for him to accept her back into his heart.

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl was nearly mown over by Beth and Randall as he stepped through the kitchen door, coming in from his search of the back yard and surrounding buildings. The garage had yielded a good haul as far as tools and a hidden generator system. Carol cast him a warm smile as he took a seat on a stool at the center island. "Need some help?"

          She shook her head. "Not at the moment. I think Lori and I have everyone organized. Glenn and T-Dog dismantled a small garden shed to use the planks to cover the windows on the ground floor. They're working on that now. The children are helping move everyone's belongings into the rooms upstairs. Rick and Lori will be taking the master bedroom down here and sharing with Carl. Hershel is on watch with Rick. Oh, and dinner's almost ready. It's canned stew tonight. I didn't have time to be more creative."

          Daryl huffed a short laugh. She never ceased to amaze him. "Ain't nothing wrong with canned stew," he said, reaching for a box of crackers there on the counter and popping a few into his mouth.

          "Did you find anything interesting? You were gone quite a while."

          "Matter o' fact, I did. There's a huge propane tank out there … 'bout a hundred gallons … hooked up t' one o' those fancy Guardian generators. Enough to power th' entire place. Soon as we get this place light tight, I'll turn it on."

          "Hot showers," she moaned. "If this place had a wall around it, it would be damn near perfect."

          "You thought th' farm was perfect too, an' it didn't have a wall."

          Carol backed against the sink as her husband eased off the stool and approached her, sliding her hands up his chest when his arms curled around her waist. "The farm will always hold a special place in my heart, Daryl. It's where you brought Sophia back to me, where you professed your love, where you proposed …"

          "Where we got married," he finished for her, pressing a soft kiss beneath her ear. She shivered, clinging tightly to him as her hands slipped into the damp hair at his nape.

          "Don't you see? It doesn't matter where we are, just so long as we're together.  _You_  and Sophia are my home. This group is our  _family_. We'll be fine."

          He accepted a quick kiss before she moved out of his arms and unpacked the bowls they'd use for their dinner. His wife had an uncanny way of cutting through the bullshit. He'd wolfed down half of his meal by the time she called the others in to dinner. They were tired and worn down from their fight off the farm and the stress of being out in the open and vulnerable all day. It would do them all good to rest. They'd found a good place by the grace of God. It would serve them until Merle could come through.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Finally, they're off the farm and safe for the moment. Hope everyone liked the chapter :D Please don't hesitate to let me know what you think. Next time: Members find their way back to the group, one is lost, and Merle continues to plot.


	48. Chapter 48

 

          Carol pulled her jacket closed over her chest and zipped it up as she stepped out onto the porch. The house was settling for the night, it being well after eleven, but something had called her outside. Just a feeling, but one she wasn't going to ignore. Sophia was tucked away in the big bed she shared with her parents down in the basement, but Daryl was somewhere finishing up his turn at watch with Rick. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, finding Lori curled up under a thick woolen blanket on the swing.

          She smiled as she sat down next to her friend. "How long've you been out here?" she spoke softly. Despite their seclusion, they still observed the rules put into place to keep them safe.

          "I don't know … couple of hours, I guess," Lori whispered back, her eyes following her husband as he made a circuit of the wide lawn.

          Carol couldn't help but follow her gaze. "How is he?" she questioned, nodding her head at Rick.

          Lori sniffed. "He's retreating into himself, Carol, and I don't know what to do to help him. He's worried about Shane, Dale and Andrea – and why they haven't found us yet – the group, the baby … the list goes on and on."

          Carol pulled the woman into a warm embrace, burrowing beneath the blanket with her. She'd sit out there with her for as long as she needed if she were able to somehow help her. "Of course, he's worried. We all are. They should have been here by now." She wasn't worried they'd miss the turnoff if they had made it off the farm and all the way to Griffin. The driveway was on the main road into town, and Daryl had taken the extra precaution of shooting two bolts into the mailbox. They would be clearly recognizable to Shane. But it had been over a week since they'd made their escape from the farm, and many were losing hope their friends had made it. "We'll be going back soon, and will find out one way or the other."

          Lori pulled a crumpled handkerchief from the inside of her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. "That's what worries me. I don't know if I could stand to see our friends turned, wandering around the farm aimlessly searching for someone to feed on."

          Carol rubbed soothing circles along the brunette's back, lending her comfort. "You can't think like that."

          "How can I not? I see it in Rick's eyes every time I look at him. He blames himself for not seeing that  _everyone_  got off the farm with us."

          Daryl whistled down from the roof of the porch, a short burst of sound to disturb the still night air. Rick sprinted across the lawn, closing the distance between himself and his watch partner. Carol and Lori appeared at the top of the steps, eager, as well, to see what news he had to report.

          "We got incomin'!" the hunter hissed, swinging down from his perch. "Lights jus' turned onto th' drive." His feet hit the ground next to Rick, his bow settling on his arm as he cast his eyes down the gravel driveway.

          Rick didn't ask how Daryl had seen lights from such a distance. He was coming to realize he didn't need to question the hunter in some things. He yanked the rifle from his back and checked the chamber, his gaze rising to meet Lori's. "Get T-Dog and Glen. We might need backup."

          "Carol," Daryl murmured urgently, "cover us from the porch. Get th' rifle I've been teachin' y'."

          It was testament to her training she didn't argue, but nodded and disappeared into the house to fetch the weapon. She was back, along with the men and in position as a silver Dodge inched its way slowly into the yard. Daryl held his crossbow, ready to fire as he made his way towards the driver's side of the truck.

          Rick was in tandem with him as he approached the passenger door. "C'mon out, nice and slow now," he called. The driver, however, was in a hurry. She threw the door open and nearly collapsed at the hunter's feet, her blonde hair matted and filthy. Daryl caught her before she could fall. His hand on her back could feel the wheezing breaths she struggled to draw in.

          Shane stumbled out of the passenger side, equally bedraggled, a wide grin on his face. "Man, is it good to see you!" he chortled, finding himself caught up in a hug as his partner fell onto him.

          Rick was weak with relief and didn't even try to hide the moisture gathering in his eyes. "I thought you were dead! After so long …"

          Glenn hurried to help Andrea stand, seeing she was clearly sick. "Have you been bitten?" he asked worriedly, holding her at arm's length.

          "No, I'm ok. I think I caught a cold from the turn in the weather, though. Where's Carol?" the blonde asked, her voice raspy from coughing.

          Carol darted off the porch, wrapping her arms around her friend. She'd really begun to think she'd never see her again … alive anyway. "I'm so happy you're ok! Come on inside. You need to let Hershel have a look at you, get you some antibiotics to fight off whatever you've contracted."

          T-Dog took the rifle from Carol and followed them inside. She led Andrea straight to the kitchen and settled her down in a chair at the table before moving to the stove to put the kettle on for tea. Daryl slipped in behind her and started a fresh pot of coffee. Shane didn't look the type to drink some of the fancy English breakfast tea he'd found in town for his wife.

          Rick and Lori sat on either side of Shane while Hershel looked Andrea over, claiming she had a nasty case of bronchitis. He gave her a dose of antibiotics, but made it clear to Rick they'd have to go on a run the following day to search for an inhaler and some anti-inflammatory medication.

          Glenn took the rifle Rick had been using and inched towards the door. "Me and T will go ahead and take watch. It was nearly time anyway."

          "Thanks, Glenn," Rick nodded solemnly, glad to have the boy's willing assistance. He knew he'd be useless until he heard Shane and Andrea's story.

          Carol set a plate of food in front of them both and crossed her arms over her chest, asking the question to which she was sure everyone needed to hear the answer. "Where's Dale?" She wasn't the only one to have noticed he was missing.

          Andrea's lower lip trembled as she ducked her head to hide the tears welling in her eyes. Carol dropped into a chair next to her as Daryl slid a cup of coffee across the table to Shane and moved to stand at the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. The silence in the room was nearly unbearable as the weight of their loss settled upon them. She wrapped her hands around the blonde's where they were warming over her teacup. "He didn't make it," Carol murmured quietly, her eyes filling with sympathy for her friend.

          Shane shook his head, letting his chin fall to his chest. He might not have always agreed with the older man, but Dale was their voice of reason, their strong hand of morality, the last shred of their humanity in a world gone to shit. He couldn't help but feel the void left by his death.

          "I didn't make it to him in time after I ran from the house," Andrea whispered, tears falling unchecked over her dirty cheeks. "There were just too many of them …" Her voice broke on a sob. "They came out of the pasture on that side and swarmed us. I thought we'd both make it, but … Dale pushed me up the steps into the RV and the door slammed behind me … he should have been right behind me. I should have made sure!"

          Shane shot her a pained look. "Babe, it's not your fault. There's nothing you could've done. If you'd gone back out there, you'd have died too." Apparently, this wasn't the first time he'd had to reassure her since the fall of the farm.

          Rick scrubbed his hands over his face as Lori got up to fix her husband a cup of coffee, needing something to do with her hands before she too broke down into a weeping mess. "What happened to you after we got separated?" he asked his partner. He was still suffering guilt for leaving him behind.

          "Don't do it, man," Shane warned, draining his cup and sitting back in his chair.

          "Don't do what?"

          "Play that guilt card. You did what you could, Rick," Shane said. "You had to get out for Lori and Carl." He sighed wearily when Rick shook his head. "I saw everyone follow the plan. I could've made it to the pickup before you left, but I couldn't leave Andrea. I had to get her out."

          Daryl shifted his feet anxiously. "That couldn't've been easy."

          "It wasn't, but by the time I'd fought my way to the camper, those geeks had lost interest in it. There was little left of Dale, but I knew Andrea was inside. Of course, the damn thing refused to start, and we were stuck."

          "For how long?" Hershel asked where he stood next to the sink, looking out through a crack in the boards covering the window.

          "Four days," the deputy answered. "I'm sorry, Hershel, but there's not much left."

          The farmer hung his head, despairing at his loss.

          "I dunno what started it – possibly the walkers caught scent of the living in the house – but the lines from the generator shed were torn lose. The house burned. It spread to the trees and outbuildings. We thought maybe the barn and stables would've been ok, but when we checked, the doors looked like they'd been torn from their hinges … the animals … well you can imagine."

          Andrea blew her nose and wiped the tears from her face. "I'm so sorry, Hershel."

          "We knew there'd be a chance the farm would be lost," he intoned flatly.

          Lori laid a comforting hand on Shane's forearm. "How'd the two of you get away?"

          Shane huffed a short humorless laugh. "We hoofed it back to the highway through the woods. Not too easy without Dixon showing us the way, I'll tell you. At first, I wasn't sure we were in the right place, but we found a truck and headed out anyway. Wasn't easy, but once we found some signs, we managed to get pointed in the right direction. All we had with us was what we could carry in our packs from what was left of the supplies in the RV." He looked over at Daryl. "Stroke of genius to put those bolts in the mailbox. Otherwise, we'd've never found this place."

          Rick clasped him on the shoulder and squeezed. "We're just glad the two of you made it."

          Carol rose to her feet and took Andrea's hand, helping her rise. "Alright, let's get you cleaned up and tucked into a warm bed," she said, trying to smile through her anguish. "Lori, see if you can find clothes for them, please? I'll make up one of the empty rooms down here for them."

          Daryl and Rick dragged a spare mattress down from the attic and Carol was able to find sheets, blankets and pillows in the linen closet upstairs. The room was sparse with only the lone mattress and their packs, but it would be theirs for as long as they remained in the house. She worried over Andrea's health, but with Hershel there to see to her care, the blonde should make a full recovery in no time.

          Daryl watched his wife as she moved around downstairs, readying herself for bed. No matter how hard Carol tried to hide it from him, he could see how much Dale's death was affecting her. He sat down on the side of the bed and removed his boots, his toes curling into the carpet as he yawned. Her nose was red, her eyes puffy, when she emerged from the bathroom. He didn't say a word, simply holding his arms out to her.

          Carol collapsed against him, allowing him to pull her to the center of the bed to be sandwiched between him and Sophia. She wept silent tears against his chest, comforted by his warm embrace. "Why?" she sniffled. "Dale never did a thing to harm anyone."

          Daryl sighed and pressed his lips to her brow. She wasn't alone in her pain. He felt it too, though he wouldn't allow it to show. It was better for him to deal with it in his own way without her compassion. She'd make him feel it all the more strongly, and frankly, he didn't know if he could deal with it at the moment. He could only pray he'd be able to say the right thing to make her feel better. "Why'd any o' this have t' happen? Because a bunch o' idiot scientists decided they wanted t' play God," he scoffed. "We're havin' t' pay for their mistakes. All we can do is try t' make it, Carol. Th' best way we can."

          She nestled closer to her husband and wrapped her arm around his waist, her crying jag having left her emotionally exhausted. "He was our moral compass, Daryl. How are we to go on without him? He was kind and compassionate, always there to listen and offer his advice. There wasn't a member of this group he hasn't affected in some way."

          His fingers skimmed the translucent skin beneath her eyes, brushing away her tears. "We'll jus' have t' remember what he taught us, an' not lose sight of our humanity. It's how we'll honor his memory. We're gonna lose people, Carol. There's no way we can avoid it. We're gonna hurt an' grieve an' mourn, but at th' end o' th' day, we just have to keep fighting. We ain't got a choice."

          Carol pressed her face into the crook of his neck and closed her eyes, hoping she'd be able to find sleep despite the turmoil roiling within her. "I'll always fight for you, Daryl … for Sophia and the others."

          "I know. That's all I can ask. No matter how bad it might get … don't give up on us."

 

*.*.*

 

          "Big man wants to see you, Dixon."

          Merle's head snapped up and his hand tightened around the stock of the rifle he held loosely at his side. He didn't like Russo. He liked his sycophantic sidekick, Wayne, even less. Staring them down, he cocked his head to the side and regarded them through narrowed eyes. "S'that right?"

          Wayne nodded slowly, a sneer curling his too wide lips. "Yup. He's on the wall. It's tee time, y'know."

          Merle dismissed them, more than ready to have the governor's new flunkies out of his own personal space. And more importantly, Marty's. He glanced over at her where she sat on the sidewalk rebuilding the bicycle Tyreese had found and carted back to Woodbury. She'd already outfitted the back with a cart. It would hold two at the most and give the one manning the pedals a good workout. Tara and Sasha sat on either side of her, trying to learn what they could as the three gossiped in the late afternoon sunlight.

          Martine had heard everything the two had said to her lover, and she silently gave him leave through her guarded gaze. It wasn't often they needed to speak when others were around, and it sometimes overwhelmed him at how important she'd become to him. He turned on his heel and made the short trek to the wall from the front of the apartment building where they lived. He had to fight hard to keep the sneer off his lips as he watched the man hit another golf ball onto the street below outside the gates. He'd be damned if he'd go collect the stupid things.

          "Y' wanted t' see me, governor?" he asked, forcing a smile to his face. When the situation warranted, he could be just as charming as Blake.

          "Ah, Dixon," Philip drawled, flexing his gloved hand. "Just thought we should have a chat." He paused to look out over his town. "Woodbury's coming along nicely, don't you think?"

          Merle wanted to roll his eyes, but managed a blank stare. The most the man had done was oversee the construction of the walls … if you could even call a few overturned semi's and some chain link walls. Blake had been more concerned with amassing his weapons. "Comin' along real good, sir. But I don't think that's why y' called me up here."

          Philip chuckled. "Can't get anything past you, Merle."

 _No, but I can get plenty by you, asshole,_  he growled inwardly.

          The governor's laughter died away just as quickly as it had appeared, his focus seemingly returning to his backswing. "And how are the new men working out? Do they seem to be fitting in and finding their place? Russo's team brought in some much-needed supplies from their short run last week."

          Dixon felt his stomach churn with a fresh wave of acid at the thought of the low lifes Blake had managed to recruit. Even at his worst, he had standards. These men thrived on the vilest forms of debauchery known to man. Thieving, raping, pillaging … they'd have given pirates a run for their money back in the day. He plastered a grin on his face which didn't meet the icy blue steel of his eyes. "They're m' kind o' people. I think they'll do well here," he lied.

          Blake turned to level his general with a pointed gaze, taking his measure before he relaxed and smiled that oily politician's grin Merle hated with a flaming passion. "Perhaps now that our numbers have increased, we'll be able to clear the prison? You have to admit it would serve us well should Woodbury ever fall."

          Merle snorted. "The rear wall had collapsed last we checked. That place is swarmin' with biters," he said, using the governor's favorite term for the undead. "It would take more men than we've got t' even make a dent."

          Philip hummed in irritation. Merle knew why the bastard wanted the prison … the armory. More power, more weapons, more leverage against anyone who wished to go up against him.

          "Maybe I need to talk to our lovely Martine about fashioning more of those brilliant cuffs of hers for our soldiers." He didn't notice the way Merle stiffened, his gaze going to the lovely raven-haired beauty where she worked below. "What's she working on now?"

          Merle released the tension of his clenched jaw and forced himself to answer. "Mrs. Roby busted her hip last week, an' it's not like we got a wheelchair for her. She doesn't want t' be confined to her house, says she wants t' be useful with her many projects." The woman – well into her seventies – oversaw the kitchens, the meager gardening project, as well as a sewing circle. "Marty's trying to fashion a …" He scratched his chin, trying to recall the term his woman had used. " … rickshaw. That way her grandson can cart her around."

          "Admirable," Blake breathed, his lascivious gaze settling on Martine's ass in the form fitting jeans she wore. "It was truly fortuitous when Martinez happened to stumble upon the two of you. Your loyalty is to be commended, Merle."

          Dixon nodded stiffly. "Was there anythin' else, sir?"

          "As a matter of fact, yes. I want you to assemble a team … scavenging run. The scouts have reported movement over near Griffin. I need you to look into it, and see if there are any survivors who might fit in with us here."

          Merle swallowed thickly. "I can do that."

          "Take Russo and some of his men along with you this time. He reports to you, yet I've never seen you include them in with your team."

 _Fuck!_  "We'll move out as soon as we can get our gear ready."

          The governor dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and Merle could feel the muscle ticking away in his cheek from clenching his teeth so hard. He made it a practice not to go out in teams of more than ten. Even that was too much at times, and now he'd have to leave behind men he trusted to do as Blake wished. He knew for damned sure he wasn't leaving Marty behind. He didn't trust the governor not to try some underhanded shit where she was concerned.

          One good thing would come out of this, he thought with a malevolent quirk of his lips. Those numbers Blake was so pleased with … he'd make sure he thinned them out a bit. Then next on the agenda would be to discover the identity of those scouts and dispose of them with extreme force. He wouldn't put his family in danger.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Writing between seasons 2 & 3 gives me a lot of creative license because we don't really know what they encountered on the road between their escape from the farm and their arrival at the prison. So, bear with me because what I'm working towards is going to be a lot different. Next time: A run goes bad and Daryl is captured. Please review and let me know what you think!


	49. Chapter 49

 

          Sweat beaded on his brow despite the cool temperatures of the basement room. His limbs were heavy, the warm weight of his daughter at his back, his wife pressed against his chest. Phantom hands still reached for him, the remnants of his nightmare refusing to leave him. Slowly, Daryl pried his eyes open a crack to survey the room. Even in the thrall of night terrors, he was disciplined enough to not jerk awake and let an enemy know of his alertness.

          His breathing slowed, and he carefully disentangled himself from his sleeping girls. He wasn't even aware of how he'd wound up between them instead of protectively to the side with easy access to his weapons. He scrubbed his hands over his face and raked a hand through his mussed hair. One would think with the state of the world as it was then, he would have nightmares about walkers and lawless men out to take his family. No, he had to dream about his worthless father. Would he ever be rid of the man?

          The chill in the air didn't bother him, in fact he welcomed it against his bare torso. Carol always said he ran hot, and would kick off the blankets in the middle of the night at times. His toes dug into the plush rug beneath his feet as he made his way to the wall where a bank of high basement windows let in pale moonlight. Dawn would soon come to chase even that away, and hopefully the memories of his father as well. He reached his arms up above his head, resting his hands on the sill as he stretched. He wasn't able to bite back the whimper clawing its way out of his throat, the fresh remembrance of his father's cruel words, the sound of his belt as it whistled towards his flesh.

_Worthless!_

_Useless!_

_Shoulda made yer mama get rid o' y'!_

_Piece o' shit!  She up an’ died, an’ who th’ fuck gets stuck with your ass … me, that’s who!_

          His fingertips dug into the molding, pieces of drywall embedding itself beneath his dirty nails. It had been a long time since he'd had a nightmare about Jackson, not since Carol had begun sleeping beside him. He could only surmise the news of Dale's death had triggered it. He'd really cared for the old man, would miss him greatly. Unlike Jackson Dixon. Dale had been a right pain in the ass, but he'd always looked at Daryl as if he mattered, as if he were a good man, a member of the group just as good as the others.

          Daryl jerked as if he'd been shot as two slender arms wrapped around his waist. His eyes searched the darkness, coming to rest on his wife's worried expression. He could feel the tears cooling on his face, and he felt ashamed for her to see his weakness. Carol didn't speak, taking his hand and tugging him to stand at the bottom of the staircase where the light flooded a strong beam. He prayed she would always be there to pull him out of the darkness and back into the light.

          Carol held his gaze, brushing away his tears with the pads of her thumbs. There was no need for words, no need to pressure him into talking about his feelings when they were revealed so starkly on his face. She could see it all, could feel his pain, and wrapped her arms around him, drawing him into the comfort and understanding of her embrace. His own arms crushed her to him as he buried his face in her neck. Only she had the wherewithal to render him a puddle of raw emotion and not make him feel broken and weak. He hated for her to see him like that, but at the same time wouldn't want to be anywhere but in her arms.

          "I love you, Daryl. You're not alone," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she carded her fingers lovingly through his shaggy hair. "I've got you."

          His chest eased, his pain and lingering fear subsiding as he listened to her croon soft words in his ear. He allowed himself to grieve for Dale, pushing memories of his father out of the way to remember his friend and everything he'd meant to their group. Daryl clung to his wife and felt his strength return, for Carol  _was_  his strength, his reason, his will to survive. Without her he was lost. His body might be able to push him through the motions, but his soul would shrivel without her. "Love you too, woman," he growled lowly, kissing her softly. Just a tender meeting of lips, but enough to convey the wealth of love he held for her.

          Carol's hands roved over his back, her fingertips tracing the slight raising of his scars, chasing away the last of his nightmares. "You shouldn't suffer alone, Daryl. You should have woken me. You chase away  _my_  bad dreams; you should let me do the same for you."

          "Y' need your rest," he said simply, pressing his brow to hers. He kept his voice low, not wanting to wake Sophia with their quiet conversation.

          A creak at the top of the stairs cut off whatever protests she would have made. Daryl stiffened, realizing he was standing there in nothing but a pair of cotton sleeping pants, his back on display to whomever was coming down the stairs. He didn't look, didn't want to know who would witness his shame, yet reluctant to let go of his wife to grab a shirt.  _Fuck it!_  He turned to find Rick's wide-eyed gaze upon him as he came to a stop at the bottom of the wooden staircase.

          Thankfully, the good sheriff didn't stare for long, holding out a cup of fresh coffee to his friend. "Hey. Brought coffee this time," he offered lamely.

          "Thanks." Daryl took a tentative sip, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste. Rick had a heavy hand with the coffee grounds first thing in the morning. "What's up?"

          Rick shifted his gaze towards the windows. "Almost dawn. I was wondering if you were going hunting with the kids this morning. If not, we need to plan a run into town to see if we can't find more antibiotics for Andrea."

          Carol shrugged as her husband's questioning gaze fell upon her. "You could probably put off hunting for one more day. We still have some of that buck you bagged a few days ago." Because of the generator, they were able to keep it fresh in the refrigerator.

          Daryl thought it over carefully before answering. "A'right, we'll go, but I want t' take Carol an' th' kids with us. Maybe Glenn an' Maggie too. Girl's about ready t' go stir crazy."

          Rick frowned in surprise. "You want to take the kids on a run?!"

          "Damnit, Rick, keep yer fuckin' voice down," Daryl snarled, glancing over at his sleeping daughter. "An' why th' hell not? Carl an' Soph are good soldiers. For no more'n what we're goin' for, I don't see th' harm." They'd been into Griffin at least twice since they'd found the homestead and the walker activity had been at a minimum.

          "Lori's going to have kittens if I suggest –"

          Carol hid a giggle behind her hand.

          "Well, m' girls are goin'. Y' can explain t' Carl that you're too scared o' his mom t' let him go."

          Rick's eyes narrowed at the slight. Him and Daryl might be making inroads into friendship, but he didn't like to be called out. "Fine, I'll talk to her."

          The hunter huffed a short laugh. "Y' do that. We'll be ready t' leave when y' are."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl leaned an arm against the driver's side door, gnawing anxiously on his thumbnail as he kept a watchful eye on the road ahead of him. After a rather heated row between Rick and Lori, she'd finally agreed to allow Carl to go on the run. He could understand her reluctance to let the boy out of her sight. God knew he felt the same way about Sophia after she'd been missing for three days, but she couldn't continue to coddle the boy. He wasn't going to learn how to survive tied to her apron strings. He glanced at the children settled between himself and Carol on the front seat of the silver Dodge Shane had driven in the night before. Rick, Maggie and Glenn were crowded onto the narrow bench seat in the extra cab. He tried to ignore the tightness in his chest. It was a simple routine medicine run. They could do this, he knew, but he wouldn't allow himself to become complacent. He had to stay on his toes.

          "So, Daddy," Sophia said, her small voice cutting through the silence. "We're just going to the pharmacy to get meds for Andrea? While we're here, don't you think we should maybe scavenge a little?"

          He looked down at his daughter, giving her an assessing stare. "What'd y' have in mind?"

          "I don't know. You've never let me go on a run before, but I'm sure we could look around a little, couldn't we?"

          Sophia had a bright mind, and he admired her more than he could say. After she'd gotten away from Ed and his oppression, she'd blossomed and grown considerably. Now she wasn't afraid to voice her opinions or ask the right questions. He wasn't going to be the type of parent to discourage her inquisitiveness either. "We're going t' hit th' pharmacy an' a small clinic a few blocks over. After that we need t' see about fuel for th' truck. If things go smoothly, an' everyone's in agreement, we'll check out a few more places."

          She seemed to be happy with that answer, and fell quiet. Carl sometimes felt the need to fill the silence, but even he wasn't talking. The kids seemed to somehow know if they didn't pay the strictest attention and remain focused, they wouldn't be invited along again.

          Daryl pulled to the outskirts of Griffin, parking next to the farthest edge of the shops where they started. It was becoming their routine when scavenging, not wanting to draw any unnecessary or unwanted attention. Who could really know if they were the only living people in the area? And though they hadn't seen many walkers on previous trips, it wasn't to say there weren't any.

          Rick's clear blue gaze met Daryl's in the rearview mirror. "How you want to do this?"

          The hunter frowned. Their leader seemed to be deferring to Daryl's judgement more and more of late when it came to strategy. "Glenn and Maggie, take th' clinic."

          Carol nodded, turning in her seat to look at the farmer's daughter. "There should be samples there since it served as a health unit."

          "Right," she said. "Daddy gave me a list of what to look for."

          "I have one too," Carol said, fishing her own out of the pocket of her leather jacket.

          Daryl shot her a steady glance. "Want you t' go t' th' pharmacy with Rick."

          Her eyes widened in surprise. "What? I thought I'd be with you. I'm  _always_  with you," she murmured incredulously. He never allowed her far from him.  _He_  was her partner.

          He shook his head. "Th' kids need t' be with me. You're strong an' you're skilled. I'm trustin' y' t' stay safe." Which was taking a lot out of him to admit. His skin hummed with anxiety at the thought of her going off alone with Rick, but everyone had to partner up. No one would be going off alone.

          "Daryl, you sure?" Rick asked, his brows raised in surprise.

          Daryl nodded stiffly. "Yeah. I'ma take the kids an' try t' fill a can." He pointed out the windshield at the cars lining the two-lane road. "There should be enough fuel t' fill us up with some t' spare t' take back with us."

          "Alright, let's go." Rick checked his watch. "Let's see what we can find and meet up at that coffee shop on the corner in say … two hours."

          Everyone got out of the truck and checked their weapons, Daryl grabbing his crossbow from the bed. Carol pulled him to the side, her brow creased with worry. "Daryl, are you sure about this?" she asked, her fingers digging into the flesh of his forearm.

          "We cain't send Rick off by himself, an' I'd just feel better if Carl was with me. Th' boy listens t' me, knows I ain't gonna put up with no horseplay. He might not keep his guard up with his Dad. I ain't goin' back an' tellin' Olive Oyl somethin' happened t' her kid on my watch, Carol. Jus' keep your eyes open, watch his back, but y' keep yourself safe  _first_. Y' understand me?"

          She bit her lip, her stomach roiling with tension. She had a really bad feeling about his plan. Not for her or Rick or even the kids, but for her husband. It galled her that she wasn't going to be allowed to argue with him on it. She refused to do anything to undermine the faith she and the others had in him. It had taken him too long to get to this point where he felt a part of the group. Instead, she pushed her fears aside against her better judgment, and nodded in understanding. He pressed a kiss to her brow and gave her a gentle nudge in Rick's direction. Her anxiety grew the farther she walked away from him, and she sent up a silent prayer for his safety.

 

*.*.*

 

          "Focus," Carol sighed softly as Rick looked back over his shoulder where he'd left Daryl and the children. "You know Carl will be fine with Daryl."

          Rick raked a hand through his short-cropped curls. "I know. Is it petty of me to be jealous of the time my son spends with him? Your husband is better able to watch out for Carl than I am, and it bothers me ok? I was a cop, Carol. I should be able to watch over him myself."

          Carol didn't look at him, keeping her eyes in constant motion along the street, searching for danger as she'd been taught. "Let it go," she warned. "You don't need anything in your head distracting you. Sure way to get yourself killed. You should be happy you have someone to help you watch over your family. Yeah, you were a cop, and I'm sure you were a good one, Rick. Protect and serve, keep the public safe from drug dealers and killers and sociopaths. But we're not in that world anymore. This is Daryl's world where the most basic skills of hunting, tracking,  _surviving_  are the most important. He excels at what he does. What he has to teach our children is imperative, vital to their lives now."

          The former deputy hung his head. "How'd he even learn that stuff? How'd he come by those scars? Who was he before all this happened?"

          "Why not ask him yourself?" she asked, answering his questions with one of her own.

          "He don't look like the sharing type, to be honest. I've been trying to get to know him. I trust him more than I ever thought I would, but he's not the greatest talker. Except to you."

          Carol stopped on the sidewalk and pressed her back against the building –  _always watch your back, woman –_  giving him a long look before casting her eyes back to the street. She didn't want to just blow him off. She wanted Daryl to be able to call him friend, but she also knew her husband would never open up to him willingly. "I – Rick, I'm not going to spill his darkest secrets to you. It's not my place." She sighed and fidgeted with the strap securing her knife to her belt. "When you were a cop, you ever get called out for domestic abuse?"

          "Of course, quite often," he said, his brow furrowing.

           She gave him a pointed look. "Jackson Dixon was  _not_  a good man, nor did he hold his sons in the highest regard. You get me?"

"Christ!" Rick groaned, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

          Carol took a swig from her canteen and got him moving back down the sidewalk. "Merle is older … roughly about ten years. He and his uncle Drew were instrumental in showing Daryl how to live off the land. It wasn't hard to learn growing up in the wilds of the Georgia mountains. It's all he knew. If you can't trust someone … a parent, especially … who is supposed to love and nurture you, how can you be expected to trust a stranger? Ever? He's made remarkable strides with this group, Rick. He's a good man, though he won't let many see it."

          "Carl thinks the world of him. Especially after what he did for you and Sophia … taking the both of you in to get you away from Ed." He ducked his head sheepishly as she arched a cynical brow at him. "Shane filled me in on that."

          Carol chuckled lowly, trying to maintain their soft tones. "I'd never met anyone like him, Rick. He was like a powder keg with a lit fuse. So quick to temper. I think Merle did it on purpose just to get a rise out of him. Sophia started it all, really. She kept slipping off to their campsite to spend time with Merle. She liked talking to him, found him fascinating. It scared me to death, thinking Ed would notice. But the one to take notice was Daryl," she explained. "His own background allowed him to see through all the little tells to what I was going through, and he couldn't stand it. He pushed and pushed, offered friendship and safety, practically begged me to leave my husband and move in with him so he could protect us."

          "That when everything fell apart?"

          Carol snorted. "You could say that. Actually, at times, it feels as though that's when my life began, and I don't regret it. Not for a moment. He saved us … saved  _me_." She turned to him, stopping outside of the pharmacy. "How many people do you know who would have risked so much for me and my daughter? In a world gone mad where they should be worrying about their own survival?"

          "I can't name one," he said with a wry quirk of his lips. "I can't even say I would have done it at the risk of my own family. And it's my duty to put others above myself. It's my  _job_."

          "Which is why you  _never_  have to worry about Carl's safety when he's in Daryl's charge. And you don't have to be jealous, either. Carl knows who his dad is, and he loves you. It's why he's working so hard to train with my husband. He wants to make you proud."

          Rick drew the hunting knife from the scabbard on his belt and laid his hand on the door of the pharmacy they were about to enter. He paused, looking back at her. "You've changed a lot since the quarry. That's because of him too, isn't it?"

          She grinned that gamine-like grin of hers, her eyes sparkling. "More than you know. It's rather tragic the world had to go to hell for me to find happiness, but I'm glad I got a second chance."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl shook his head as Carl sputtered and spit out a mouthful of gasoline. They were crouched down next to an abandoned Chrysler, a hose extended down into its tank, the other end now shoved down into the gas can between them. "Eww!" the boy groaned. "That's just nasty."

          "No worse than your mama's cookin'," the hunter quipped. He passed his canteen. "Here, rinse your mouth out. Next time, try not t' swallow so much."

          Sophia stood at Daryl's back, bow in hand with a bolt at the ready, her eyes slowly surveying the empty street. "My turn, next time, Dad."

          "Y' see anythin'?" he asked, his eyes squinted against the bright late autumn sun. He couldn't help but smile at Sophia's tenacity. She wanted to learn  _everything_.

          His daughter shook her head. "No. That's just it. For a town this size, shouldn't there be at least a few people still around? And where are the walkers?"

          He kept an eye on Carl's progress as he thought over what she'd said. "We took out quite a few when we first came here, Soph, but you're right. There really should be more."

          Carl pulled the hose from the can and shook it. It was nearly full. "Maybe everybody loaded up and headed to the refugee centers in Atlanta when everything started? That's where we were headed when we got stuck on the highway."

          The hairs raised on the nape of Sophia’s neck as her eyes made another sweep, narrowing into the darkened alleyways between the store fronts. "Still don't account for the lack of the living, Carl … and that feeling I got of being –"

          "Watched," Daryl finished for her. "Be still, th' both of y'. No sudden moves, just your eyes."

          Carl capped the gas can and stowed the hose in the pocket of his jacket before taking his bow to grip loosely in his hand. He was sure they were both paranoid, spooked by the eerie stillness, but he wasn't stupid enough to disobey Daryl.

          The archer took a firm grip of his own weapon and backed the children towards the mouth of the alley behind them. There was a fire escape with roof access, which would be the safest place for them should his suspicions prove correct. "Roof, now. Weapons out." His eyes pierced his daughter's as he reached for her arm. "Listen for m' signal. Y' don't come down until then. Somethin' happens, find your mama an' Rick. Y' got me, baby girl?"

          Her azure eyes were steely with determination as she nodded. There was no reason to voice the fear twisting and churning in her belly. She and Carl made a good team, they knew each other's moves well enough, and her father could take care of himself. He was sending them out of harm's way to cover his back from a distance. She wouldn't let him down.

          Adrenaline pumped fast and thick through his veins as he stored the gas can out of sight for later retrieval. He felt a little steadier, knowing the children were out of danger for the time being. He had to find the threat. And he knew there was one; he could feel it in his bones. He held his crossbow at the ready, the string tight, the bolt in place, as he set off down the street. His eyes missed nothing, and neither did his sharp ears. Above the pounding of his heart, he could hear the leaves rustling in the breeze, the children's quiet footsteps above as they followed his path along the roof, the mocking of a crow … and the squeaky wheels of a cart? There was a small grocery store a street or two over near the clinic. It very well could be Maggie and Glenn returning with their haul in a cart they'd procured to make the trek easier on them.

          Daryl crossed the street, keeping his steps light so as not to make a sound. He knew where he was, the children could still keep him in their sights. He pressed his back to the cool bricks and whipped his head around the corner for a quick peek. Two men, and neither of them part of his group. It was likely Glenn and Maggie were still ransacking the clinic for medical supplies. He thought quickly and peered up at the sun. They'd only been gone an hour, so there was still hope they wouldn't run into the two while making their way back to the coffee shop. He glanced off into the other direction where the pharmacy lay. Rick and Carol were safe for the present. The best he could do was join the kids on the roof and watch the men from that vantage point. He needed to see what they were up to, where they went and if there were others. This town might not be quite as safe as Merle had led them to believe.

          He slowly backed away from the corner and swung around, that feeling of having eyes on him stronger than ever. He cursed under his breath, bringing the crossbow up as the three men stared him down. How the hell had he not heard their approach? He took in the army fatigues the men wore. They were no doubt trained in stealth.

          "Well, hey there," the one in the middle, probably their leader, said amiably. The man sounded mighty friendly to have been pointing an assault rifle at him. "You lost, friend?"

          His companions raised their own rifles as Daryl's eyes darted quickly, searching for an escape route which wouldn't lead these men to the children. He shook his head.

          "Can you speak? We don't mean you no harm."

          Daryl snorted and took a step back. If he continued backwards, he'd run into the two men with the cart and he'd be severely outnumbered, even with the kids waiting on his signal to fire.

          The three in front advanced on him. "Seriously, friend, we mean no harm. You got a group? We have shelter if you need it."

          "Jamie," the second said warningly. "Does he really look like he needs help? I'd be scared to shut my eyes with him around and I did two tours in Iraq."

          The third narrowed his eyes. "Tori's gonna want to see him. You know she ain't been the same since she lost the lieutenant. She might like him."

          Daryl let out a low growl at the mention of the unknown woman. He didn't give two fucks whether she'd like him or not. He had his own wife and family to think about. Not to mention how his Carol would react if some woman put her hands on him. Would she get jealous? Was she the type? He didn't want to give her a reason. His backward paces quickened, bringing him out into the other street and into the line of sight of the two men pushing the cart. None of them looked as if they were ready to put a bullet in his head, giving him the confidence to widen the distance between them. He gave two short whistles, alerting Carl and Sophia to stand down and stay where they were. He didn't see the woman come up behind him.  He only heard the soft irritated sigh she made before she brought the stock of her rifle down on the back of his head. Then everything went black.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Sorry (so not sorry) about the cliffie. Good thing I post every day, huh? Next time: We learn more about this group, and Carol to the rescue!


	50. Chapter 50

 

          The backpack Carol was filling slipped from her numb fingers, her narrowed azure gaze swinging to the front of the pharmacy as a chill raced through her. The hairs raised on the back of her neck and arms and she couldn't shake the feeling of dread coiling in her stomach. She was being silly, wasn't she? She jumped as Rick's hand fell heavily on her shoulder.

          "Hey … You ok? Did you see something?" he asked, staring down at her with a worried frown.

          Carol shook her head. "No, I just got a strange feeling, is all. Like something's wrong." She laughed nervously, trying to cover the mild panic clawing at her chest. "I'm sure it's nothing. It's not like I'm psychic or anything."

          Rick wasn't so quick to dismiss her worry. "You're a mom, Carol. You have that sixth sense." He raked a hand through his hair and adjusted the strap of his backpack where it hung on his shoulder. "We've pretty much cleaned this place out of things Hershel put on the list. Why don't we start heading back to the coffee shop and see if the others are finished, too?"

          Carol pasted a brave smile on her lips, one she surely didn't feel, and followed him out of the storefront. She strapped the pack securely to her back, leaving her hands free for her weapons, and tried to loosen her posture. She didn't want to let on to Rick just how anxious she was. And she knew she'd be that way until she had Sophia and Daryl back in her arms. Her sharp gaze took in the abandoned street as they crossed, ducking down an alleyway to shorten the distance back to Main Street where the coffee shop was located.

          Glenn and Maggie waved from the shadows cast by the bright yellow and blue awning where they waited. "Hey, too bad this place couldn't serve us up a couple of lattes, huh, Carol?" the girl quipped, taking the pack from Carol and setting it down next to their own.

          "Yeah," she nodded, continuing to look up and down the street. It just seemed wrong. "Have you seen Daryl or the children yet? I would've thought they'd be back by now."

          "No," Glenn said, removing his hat to wipe his brow. "But they might have wanted to do a little scavenging and –" His voice trailed away as he spied something down the street. "Shit!"

          Carol and Rick whirled around to see Sophia and Carl bolting up the street, running full-out towards them. There were tears on her daughter's face, and her bow was clasped tightly in her hand. Rick nodded to the others for each to take one side of the street and backtrack to where the kids had come from. He put out his hands to catch Carl as Sophia collided with her mother.

          "They took him!" Sophia panted.

          "Five men and a … a … woman," Carl added as he fought for air.

          Rick stared at them both, stunned. "Someone got the drop on  _Daryl?_ Are you sure he wasn't trying to test you?"

          "Dad! Would I lie about something like this?" Carl asked incredulously. "He was taken!"

          Sophia clung to her mother. "Mama, it's ok. We're gonna get him back. We followed and know where they took him."

          "What?!" Carol shrieked, her heart threatening to beat clear out of her chest. "You  _followed_  these people? What if you'd been seen? Then you'd have been captured, too! My god, Sophia, what the hell were you thinking?"

          Sophia's lower lip trembled, tears welling in her eyes. "Mama, I couldn't let them take my daddy. I had to see where they were taking him, so we could go and get him back." Her chin lowered to her chest, unable to look at the worry on her mother's face another second.

          Carl broke out of his father's embrace and wrapped an arm around both Sophia and Carol. "We were careful. Daryl taught us how to be sneaky, so no one would see us."

          Glenn and Maggie returned with the abandoned gas can. "We found this back there. What the hell happened? Where's Daryl?" Glenn asked, setting the can down next to their collected loot.

          Sophia took the canteen Rick offered her and drank greedily while Carl spoke up. "We were siphoning fuel over there," he pointed to where the Chrysler sat, "and we felt like we were being watched. Daryl made us climb up the fire escape over by the strip mall and cover him from the roof while he took a look around."

          "He made it over here when three men came out of the alleyway behind him," Sophia added, handing the canteen to her friend. "They were wearing fatigues, so I'm guessing they're military. There were two more men over there in the street. It was kinda strange, Mama. They all had weapons, but they never really threatened Dad. It was when he was backing away … he didn't hear the woman come up behind him or he wasn't quick enough to defend himself, I don't know, but she got the drop on him and knocked him out. He'd signaled us to stand down." Tears rolled over her ashen cheeks which she quickly brushed away. "I should have shot her. I shouldn't have listened to him."

          Maggie rubbed soothing circles over her back. "No, baby, don't think that way."

          Rick shook his head. "You did the right thing, Sophia. He taught you to obey his commands and that's just what you did." He smiled encouragingly at his son. "Both of you."

          Carol tried to hold herself together, her entire body shaking with tremors. Her husband was out there with unknowns and it was just the four of them and the children there to extract him and bring him home. "How much firepower do we have on us?" she asked flatly, her eyes shifting to each of them in turn.

          "It doesn't matter," Rick said, a steely look of determination in his eyes. "We'll go back to the house and get what we need."

          "I'm not leaving, Rick," she insisted before he had a chance to protest. "I'm going after him."

          "Carol …" Glenn and Maggie both began to argue, but she cut them off.

          "He's my  _husband_. I will  _not_  leave him." She leaned down to look at her daughter, brushing a lock of her golden hair behind her ear. "Show me, Sophia. We need to see what we're dealing with."

          Rick laid a hand on Carol's shoulder to show his support. "She's right. We need to see what we're up against. After we assess the situation, Glenn and Maggie can go back to the house with the supplies and bring back T-Dog and Shane if we need them and as much firepower as is necessary. We're getting our brother back … one way or another."

 

*.*.*

 

          "Tie him tight, Jamie," the petite auburn-haired nurse hissed out through clenched teeth. "From what Miles tells me, he's gonna come up swinging."

          "He's a bruiser all right," the sergeant murmured, tying the man's arms to the chair behind him. He turned to glare at the woman standing inside their infirmary, leaning against the wall. Her arms were crossed stubbornly across her chest, and she stared at the wounded man as if he were going to break free and gun them all down without a moment's hesitation. "Why'd you have to hit him so hard, Tessa?"

          "Why?" she snarled, her thick Arkansan accent reverberating off the walls. Her dark eyes flashed hotly. "Y'all were just standin' there slack-jawed like a bunch of damn idiots, lettin' him go. What if he's part of a bigger group? You gonna let him follow you back here and take what we've managed to scrape together? I don't think so."

          Sprite, known as such for her pixie smile and healing touch, sucked in air through her teeth as she brushed the man's hair back to reveal a deep gash. "Ouch! Yeah, we're gonna have to stitch that up." She arched a brow in Tessa's direction. "Thankfully, we have a few suture kits left."

          "You're gonna waste it on his sorry ass?" she growled at her younger sister.

          "Just be lucky I'm not makin' you do it." Tessa flipped her a rude gesture and stalked off to find Tori to see what she was going to want to do with their captive. Sprite sighed. "He secure now?"

          "Yes ma'am. He's not going nowhere. Want me to stay to assist?"

          "No, I got it. The cut's not that deep, but we don't need him bleeding out." Head wounds were the worst.

          The sergeant nodded. "Alright. Holler if you need something. I want to see Alex before she gets busy in the kitchen." He grinned and waggled his eyebrows lasciviously.

          "Jamie?" He turned back from the open doorway to look askance at her. "Do you think he was alone out there?"

          "I dunno. I put everyone on alert just in case. Tighten security." The sergeant shot her a confident smile. "We'll find out soon enough, I'm sure."

          The nurse dismissed him with a nod and gathered up the supplies she'd need, arranging them with precision on the metal tray before dragging it over to where her patient was secured to the chair. His head was slumped forward, his chin resting on his chest, his breathing deep and even. It was the perfect position to have him in considering where he'd been wounded. Her sister was a bit heavy-handed when taking down a threat, but she'd changed after that last raid and they'd lost their brother. Sometimes, she wondered if maybe Tessa was taking his death harder than his wife. He'd been their leader … a role Tori had assumed, and one she fulfilled with a fair hand … but he'd been their brother, husband and friend first.

          Sprite dipped a cloth in the basin of warm water she'd collected and wrung it out before pressing it to the gash on the back of her patient's head. It was enough to bring him back to consciousness. He was a sneaky one, to be sure. A barely audible hiss, and the tensing of his muscles, but otherwise, he remained still. He had to be in pain, but he didn't betray his awareness to who he surely viewed as the enemy.

          "Just relax," she said softly, continuing at her task. "We didn't bring you here to hurt you."

          A low feral growl rumbled in his chest as he lifted his head and swung it around to pierce her with his smoky blue gaze.

          "Easy," the nurse warned. "You've got a bad laceration back here … needs stitches. You want to be a good boy and hold still for me? Or would you just prefer to bleed?"

          He winced against the pain as he jerked his head away from her, but continued to hold his silence. When she brought the cloth up to clean the grime from his face, he pushed back with his feet, scooting the chair back several feet across the floor.

          She sighed heavily. "Look, I'm just trying to help you. I can't really do that if you won't cooperate. We've got a pretty good setup here … safer than some of the places we've holed up. Just … Just let me patch you up and then you can talk to Tori."

          Daryl could feel the blood trickling through his hair, not to mention the dull throb from his wound. His eyes narrowed as she approached him again. He didn't like this stranger touching him. It had taken him a long time to get used to Carol and Sophia. Right then, he only wanted his wife and daughter. He needed to know they were safe. How could he do that if he was being held prisoner by these people? "Lemme go."

          "He speaks!" A warm smile spread over her face as she rinsed out the cloth again. "They weren't so sure you could when they brought you in. What's your name? You can tell me that at least, can't you?" she asked, pressing the cloth to the back of his head without further protest.

          He clamped his lips shut stubbornly when she made no move to release him from his bonds.

          Sprite ground her teeth in frustration. "You might not have to go back out there, y'know. If Tori likes you, there's nothing saying you couldn't stay. We're always looking for able bodied men to increase our numbers. You wouldn't have to be alone."

          Daryl pulled against his bonds, growling as he cast her a withering stare. "Let. Me. Go!"

          "Ok, I tried to be nice. So, we can do this two ways," she snapped. "Either you can let me stitch you up nice and easy like … or I can go get Jamie and Miles to come hold your stubborn ass down while I stitch you up. That second option ain't going to be a bit of fun for you. Now what's it gonna be?"

          His lip curled up over his teeth in a sneer. "Mouthy bitch."

          The nurse smirked and pressed his head down, so she could see his wound better. "Somehow, I have a feeling that's almost a term of endearment coming from you."

          Daryl gnashed his teeth against the pain. She had a gentle touch considering she was ramming a needle swiftly through his scalp. Hershel could probably learn better technique from her, he thought, remembering when the old man had patched him up after a bolt had pierced his side. He could only pray she was almost finished. He tensed as the door to the infirmary opened and another woman entered. What was it with these people? Had he landed in the middle of some Amazonian tribe of warrior women? This one was wearing a fatigue jacket with a lieutenant's emblem on the sleeve and what looked to be an ego the size of Mt. Everest.

          "Good, he's awake," she said to the nurse. "He give you any trouble?"

          "He's tied to a chair, Tori. How much trouble could he cause?"

          The brunette's eyes narrowed on him. "I can tell this one is all sorts of trouble. Aren't you, darling?" She turned and pulled a stool over, taking a seat before him. "Do you have a name?"

          Daryl kept his mouth stubbornly closed.

          Her eyes flickered up to the nurse. "He said anything yet?"

          Sprite shook her head. "Aside from 'let me go'? No."

          "Well, at least we know he  _can_  speak." The lines around her mouth softened as she smiled at him. "This isn't a POW camp, friend. We're not going to torture you for information, but I do have a few questions for you. Are you alone? Jamie said you signaled someone out there before Tessa got the drop on you. Who was it?"

          He rotated his head on his neck and swallowed against the rawness of his throat. What he wouldn't give for a drink of water, but he'd be damned if he gave up information on his family to get it. He eyed the bottle in the woman's hand, but held his silence.

          "Thirsty?" Tori asked, unscrewing the cap and passing it to Sprite who brought it to his lips. "You could've just said so. I know it's not easy to trust with the way it is out there, but really … we don't want to hurt you. You were a danger to my men. That's why Tessa hit you, but they wouldn't leave you out there unconscious in the middle of the street to be a biter snack."

          Daryl drank greedily from the bottle until it was drained about three quarters of the way. She was right. He'd have been in a bad way if he'd have been left. Even Carl and Sophia couldn't have gotten him to safety if they'd been set upon by walkers. "Thanks," he croaked, his voice raspy from disuse. "Jus' lemme go. I ain't no threat t' you people."

          "Yeahhh," she drawled, "that isn't happening just yet. We've tried to help people before. People not quite so nice. Would you like to know what happened? That girl went back to her group, gathered up her friends and attacked us. It was before we found this little haven. They took everything we had and when my husband made us run, staying behind to cover us … they killed him."

          Sprite slipped around behind her sister-in-law and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It hasn't been easy, but we're surviving the best we can. We don't want to lose anyone else. He was our leader … mine and Tessa's older brother, Tori's husband. He pulled us up out of ruin and banded us together, taught us how to scavenge and take care of one another."

          Daryl shifted uncomfortably, and not just from the punishing knots which held him to the chair. He knew what it was like to lose someone, he mused, thinking of his uncle as he gnawed on his lower lip. He wondered where his family was at that moment, if Rick had made them go back to the house. He hoped their leader wasn't stupid enough to let her stay, or come up with some hare-brained scheme to break him out of there. He still thought it prudent to keep his mouth shut for the time being.

          Tori smiled sadly. "So … not even name, rank and serial number, huh?" She sighed and rose from the stool, turning to the nurse. "Give him something for the pain. I'll ask Jamie to have a few of the men escort him to one of the empty rooms downstairs." Again, she looked at Daryl. "I think Alex is making stew, so don't worry that we'll let you go hungry. Tomorrow we'll go out looking for your group, and see if we might be able to negotiate your release. Rest easy."

          The nurse held out two white pills to him, along with another bottle of water. He eyed the pills and pressed his lips firmly shut. He wasn't going to take anything from these people no matter how unassuming they seemed to be.

          "It's just Tylenol. We have some stronger meds, but we try to save those for emergencies. Sure you don't want any?" she asked, showing him the bottle she'd taken them from.

          The pounding in the back of his skull and the pull of the stitches made him reconsider, and he held her gaze as he opened his mouth to accept them from her. But he still didn't trust her … either of them.

 

*.*.*

 

          "There's one walking the perimeter and two on the roof. Gate looks pretty sturdy," Rick said. He was lying flat on his belly in the grass on the incline overlooking the small compound below, a pair of field glasses held up to his face.  _Trinity Gardens Day Spa_  from what the sign out front stated. Carl and Sophia were behind them, nestled in the trees, granting them cover from anyone who might approach. He'd already sent Glenn and Maggie back to the house for reinforcements should they be needed.

          "Rick, it's getting dark. We're out here exposed. We can't wait for the others," Carol ground out through clenched teeth. Her whole body vibrated with tension, never having been so scared in her life. Her fear was comparable to the day Sophia had gone missing or the night the herd had overrun the farm. She couldn't stand the thought of Daryl in the hands of these people, not knowing if he were even still alive.

          He scooted back into the brush with her and laid a hand on her arm. "Carol, I know you're scared for him. I get it. But we can't go in there shooting up the place when we don't know how many more of them are inside. We could get captured or killed … we could get Daryl killed. Once it's full dark, we can scout it out a bit more, see if there's another way in around back. We need to be prepared for when the others get back."

          Carol wanted to scream at him so badly, yet she knew it would be pointless. A calm the likes of which she'd never known, settled over her and her mind cleared. She knew what she needed to do. "So, that's the plan? To wait for the others?"

          "It's our best bet."

          She hung her head for a moment, playing the part Rick had come to expect from her. Carol was their voice of reason, a leader in her own right when I came to the domestic side of the group. She was important to them … but she wasn't a fighter. At least they didn’t think she was.  She had no intentions of fighting now unless it was absolutely necessary. But she wasn't going to sit on her ass out there waiting for Rick to clear the risks while her husband could be in danger.

          "Ok. I'm going to go to the truck and grab a couple of blankets for the children. Maybe some protein bars from our packs," she said. They'd parked just down the street and walked in. Maggie had hot-wired a small Honda they'd found to take back to the house. She'd be at that front gate before Rick ever suspected a thing. Who would ever suspect the timid battered housewife of such a bold move.

          He stared at her for a long moment. "You sure? I could go."

          She shook her head, pasting a resigned frown on her face. "No … they'll be safer with you watching out for them. It shouldn't take me long."

          "Just be careful. I don't even want to think of having to deal with Daryl if something were to happen to you."

          "I'll be fine, Rick. Trust me." He looked like he wanted to say more, but she spun quickly to her feet and disappeared into the encroaching twilight. She didn't even stop to explain to Sophia where she was going. Her daughter had an uncanny ability to see through the bullshit, and she didn't want to risk her plan being exposed. Besides, Sophia would be madder than a wet banty rooster that she'd been left behind. Carl too, for that matter.

          Carol made her way down the incline, only slipping once on the damp leaves. She went to the truck parked innocuously across the street next to the post office, and gathered the things she'd wanted to retrieve in case Rick came looking for her. He could bring them back himself. Her ears perked up as she silently closed the passenger door of the silver Dodge. Walkers. Just what she needed. She'd removed everything from her belt aside from her knife, not wanting her weapons to fall into the hands of the enemy.

          She inched around the front of the truck, ducking low and peering around the driver's side of the hood. Three shuffling along the cross street. The way the wind was blowing, it was doubtful they'd pick up her scent. She didn't want to waste time with them when she needed to focus her attention on getting to Daryl. She wouldn't allow herself to dwell on what they may or may not be doing to him. She had to keep her wits about her.

          Carol kept low, her hand on the hilt of her knife as she darted across the street. The sounds of the walkers were a distant memory now, the path ahead of her clear as she turned onto the winding drive leading up to the former spa. Another turn in the driveway, and she would be spotted by the men they'd seen on sentry duty. She forced her heart to steady, every breath she took measured.  _Calm, Carol. Show no fear, only strength. You're a Dixon for fuck's sake_ , she mentally scolded herself.

          She relaxed her posture, willing away the stiff tension in her shoulders, and held her arms away from her sides. It was imperative that she show these people she meant them no harm. In that moment when the men behind the gate sprang into motion and leveled their weapons on her, she thanked God for her husband and all he'd taught her. She only prayed Rick could keep the kids from barreling down the hill in some ill-fated attempt to stop her.

          "Evenin' ma'am," their sergeant greeted, pushing his cover back on his head as he regarded her through wary brown eyes. "Nice night for a stroll … but something tells me you're not out to enjoy another beautiful Georgia sunset."

          Her lips spread into a wide beguiling smile, unable to help herself in the face of his humor. Sophia had said they could have fired on Daryl at any time and yet they hadn't. Reading the man before her, she could see the goodness alight behind his eyes. He was a soldier, close cropped brown hair, alert brown eyes and a body used to combat, but he didn't look the type who preyed on women. With two fingers, she peeled the edge of her jacket back and lifted her knife from its scabbard, laying it flat on her palm and extending it towards the gate.

          "You're right. I've come to claim my husband."

          Jamie whistled low through his teeth. "That caveman belongs to you?"

          Her brows shot up at the apt description. "About five ten, shaggy brown hair, piercing blue eyes? Crossbow and an angel wing vest?"

          "Yeah, that's him." He looked over her shoulder into the encroaching darkness. "You alone?"

          "That would be rather foolhardy, don't you think?" she asked, answering his question with one of her own. His men instantly went on alert, searching the shadows surrounding the gate. "You have nothing to fear from them. I just want my husband back."

          He nodded at Miles to open the gate as Cameron stepped out to take her knife and usher her inside at gunpoint. The sergeant gave her a quick frisk and settled his rifle on his back when he found no other weapons. "I'll bring you inside and let you talk to Tori, our leader. But just so you know, lady … your people attack, and we got us two hostages instead of one."

          Carol's eyes turned icy as she clasped her hands together before her and prepared to follow him. "If Daryl's hurt, my people will be the least of your worries."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Oh, snap! Carol in rescue mode :D Rick's gonna have kittens. Hahaha! So, anyway, I really hope y'all enjoyed the update. Next time: Carol meets the new group's leader before she's reunited with Daryl.


	51. Chapter 51

 

          Carol's sharp gaze took in everything as she followed the sergeant through the front doors. One was boarded and locked down, leaving only the one on the left easily accessible. She felt naked without her weapons, but she couldn't risk bringing any with her if she were going to seem non-threatening to these people. From what she could see, she was surprised they'd survived as long as they had. Their defenses were weak and their men entirely too trusting.

          He took her past several open rooms with sheer curtains still hanging over the boarded-up windows. They weren't practical … their purpose more to lend to the atmosphere of the former spa. She couldn't miss the sunken pools now dry and covered with a film of mildew. She'd never had the opportunity to visit such a place in her former life, but she could well use her imagination from things she'd seen in movies and on TV. Down another corridor which must have been reserved for staff, and she was led into a commissary where a half-dozen women were gathered around a large round table having dinner.

          "Tori, we have a guest," the sergeant said, stepping forward, his hand pressing into Carol's lower back.

          Sprite laid her spoon down next to her bowl, her brows shooting up beneath her auburn bangs. She'd been trying to hurry with her own meal, so she'd have time to bring some down to their prisoner.

          Tessa jumped to her feet and stomped around the table, her hand coming to rest on her sidearm as she stopped a foot in front of the pair. "Where'd she come from?" she asked, her dark eyes filled with venom.

          "Stand down, Tess, and let Jamie speak," Tori commanded quietly as she too rose from the table, her dinner forgotten.

          Jamie grinned at her as he rocked back on his heels. "She claims she's come for her husband." He pulled Carol's knife from the waistband of his pants and handed it to the brunette. "She was armed only with this."

          "You frisked her?" Tessa demanded, looking as if she'd relish the job. There was still a great deal of bitterness she wasn't able to disguise when it came to strangers.

          "I did."

          Tori huffed in irritation. "Tessa, go take Jamie's spot on patrol; I need him here."

          She glared at her sister-in-law and then nodded stiffly, leaving the same way the sergeant had entered.

          "She was alone?"

          "She said there are more, but I didn't see anyone. You want me to double sentry?"

          Carol sighed. "It wouldn't matter if you did, and what's the point when darkness has fallen?"

          Tori's hazel eyes flashed worriedly at the newcomer. "What's that supposed to mean?"

          Several of the other women around the table tittered nervously.

          "What I mean is … if we wanted to attack, half of our group could easily take this place without breaking a sweat. One on patrol and two on the roof? That all you have on evening shift? One guard walking the wall isn't going to cut it. You should have at least two. The front gate the only access, or is there a maintenance entrance at the back? While your guard is watching the front, the back is open to attack. The incline to the east gives your enemy a vantage point to see every move you make. Would I have come unarmed to the front gate if I meant you harm?"

          Tori shot an incredulous look at her second in command, a fiery blush stealing into her cheeks. She knew how vulnerable they were, but she certainly didn't like hearing it from this outsider.

          "I just want my husband, and we'll leave you in peace," Carol said, her wide blue eyes open and sincere.

          "How many are there of you out there? Would you be willing to negotiate to get your man back?" Tori asked, ushering Carol over to the table.

          Rick was going to want to throttle her when he got his hands on her, but she could see this woman was all business. It was going to take every ounce of cleverness she possessed to sort this out. "What did you have in mind?"

          "Your people … you have a safe place? You look awfully clean, your clothes fit – telling me you haven't been doing without a decent meal – and you don't have that broken look most people have after being out on the road too long. We need numbers."

          Carol arched a brow. "You're suggesting we ally ourselves together … for mutual protection."

          Tori nodded. "Now you're getting it."

          "I don't have the authority to agree to a deal like that. You would have to speak with Rick. I do know, however; that our _shelter_ isn't equipped to house you all, and as I said … this place isn't defensible enough to suit him."

          Jamie's jaw dropped. "What are you doing?" he hissed. "You don't know her. Don't you remember the last time we trusted a stranger?"

          "Yes!" she spat. "How well I remember! I also know I'm tired of trying to feed my people with fruitless results. We need to think about finding others like us. Safety in numbers. She's right! We're vulnerable, and it couldn't have been easy for her to come here, taking a chance she'd be slaughtered. She's either extremely smart or really fucking stupid, Jamie. I'm betting on the former."

          "Damnit, Tori!"

          Sprite, Alex and Kayla stared at her wide-eyed as she argued with the sergeant. "Clear the room. I want to speak with her alone. Now!"

          He shot her a look of disgust and did as she asked, following the women out.

          Tori looked up sheepishly at her guest to find her staring back sympathetically. "I don't even know your name. You'll have to excuse my outburst. I don't always get along with the sergeant."

          "Carol. I didn't always get along with my people either," she admitted. "Are you family? Or did you find one another after everything fell apart?"

          Tori closed her eyes and sat back in her chair, the weight of the world upon her shoulders. "Joseph, my husband, he was a lieutenant … marine corp. He, Jamie, Brian, Cameron, Miles and Rory, they were called to Atlanta when all this started. They were to be stationed at one of the centers to help with the refugees. He called me and asked me to come, to pack up my sisters-in-law and just come because it was going to get bad and he wanted me close. I did. I dropped everything, picked up Sprite and Tessa, and we came. The city was bombed before we made it. Before communications went down, we found out Joseph and his team hadn’t reached their post either. Kayla and Alex – Jamie and Cam's girls – they were just south of here, holed up in an apartment building, waiting for us all to meet up." She pulled a water bottle from the deep pocket of her jacket and took a long swallow before offering it to Carol. "We learned real quick how to scavenge. We also learned none of our men can hunt for shit."

          Carol grinned, appreciative of the woman's levity.

          It didn't last long, however. "Joseph kept us together, pushing us, teaching us how to make it out there. He was a soldier through and through. He was a medic in the gulf war. Felt it was his duty to help people. We found this girl. She'd been injured, but there were no bites on her … just a busted wrist. He took her in, patched her up, told her she could stay with us as long as she needed."

          Carol reached out and placed her hand over Tori's, giving her a compassionate squeeze. "And she betrayed you, didn't she? That's what the sergeant meant."

          Tori nodded bleakly. "Ran off back to her group. She'd been injured on purpose, to infiltrate us. She was to see if we had anything worth taking. Her group took everything from us – what little we had at least. When their men weren't happy with what they found, they were going to take their pound of flesh from me and the rest of the girls. Joseph … he fought, freed the rest of us. He made us run." Tears poured over her ashen cheeks. "He didn't make it. We found this place about two weeks ago. I'm just trying to hold us all together, but it hasn't been easy."

          "I'm so sorry you lost your husband," Carol said, wiping a tear from the corner of her own eye. She didn't want to think of what she would do if she lost Daryl. "I lost my first husband to walkers … though he was no loss, I assure you. He wasn't a nice man," she gnashed out, giving the woman a pointed look. "Our group actually met up on the highway on our way to the centers in Atlanta. We've lost some along the way, gained others, learned to survive together."

          "Found love again, it seems?"

          Carol grinned. "Daryl is everything to me. I'd die for him. It's why I came here. Rick is going to be so angry with me. I didn't exactly tell him before I slipped off. He's not very fond of his well-thought out plans going to crap."

          Tori grimaced. "He planning on attacking us?"

          "Not as long as me and Daryl are inside. Otherwise, my daughter would have probably tossed a grenade over the wall by now."

          "What?!"

          "Sophia's uncle … well, there are really no words to describe Merle," she sighed. "Let's just say when Daryl and his brother are finished training her, she'll be more than capable of taking care of herself."

          Tori laughed, the first genuine laugh she'd shared in a long time. "Sounds like someone I'd like to meet." She rose to her feet. "C'mon, I'm sure you're more than anxious to see your husband. I'm sorry he was injured. Tessa is a bit rough after what we've been through. Sprite – she's a registered nurse – she stitched him up."

          Carol pushed down the anger she felt over his injury and rose to follow. Tori ladled some stew into a large bowl and handed it to her. "I … are you sure you can spare it?" she asked.

          "It's not much, but he's likely to be hungry. We're not going to let him starve."

          "After I see him, I'd really like you to talk to Rick … if you're amenable?"

          Tori shrugged. "Couldn't hurt. Need to negotiate your release anyway."

          Carol shot her a sly look. "Box of supplies, maybe some fresh meat, a bit of ammo?"

          "I like you," Tori chuckled.

          "I don't see why we can't have a mutually beneficial relationship. It's hard to find decent people out there."

          Tori paused before a closed door in the basement, old sleeping quarters for staff "Look, try not to get too mad, ok. Your man is plenty scary, and we couldn't just let him loose." She handed Carol her knife, the breath hitching in her throat as she took a chance the other woman wouldn't slit her throat with it.

          Carol took the gesture as it was meant, a sign of trust.

          "I'll be back in about an hour … give you time to talk to him."

          Tori opened the door and Carol stepped inside, the lock clicking behind her.

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol set the bowl containing their dinner down on a table pushed up against the wall with a lone chair. A sigh slipped past her lips as she fell back against the locked door. Daryl was tied to the chair across the room, his chin resting upon his chest, a soft snore and a snuffle assuring her he would live. The adrenaline rush she'd felt earlier had long worn off, leaving her weak. It could have been an epic disaster, strolling up to their gate as she'd done. Instead, she'd made a new alliance. She didn't know if Rick would be pleased or pissed. She shook her head. He'd definitely be pissed at her for running off half-cocked. And that was nothing compared to her husband's reaction. Oy!

          She squeaked in a rather undignified manner as a knock sounded at her back, followed by the sound of the key in the lock. Stepping back, she warily eyed the door, unsure if she should be alarmed. The auburn-haired nurse offered her a timid smile as she stepped into the room. Carol didn't fail to notice the marine out in the corridor who'd accompanied her.

          "Hi … we didn't get a chance to talk upstairs before Tori ran us all out of the room," the young woman said with a shy smile. "I'm Sprite. I cared for your husband when he was brought in."

          "Oh, well … thank you," Carol managed, taking a bowl of warm water from her.

          "I thought you might want to wash up a bit." The nurse set a small kit down on the table, revealing bandages, antibiotic ointment and several bottles of oral medicines. "I need to check his wound as well."

          Carol took a firm step to her right, placing herself between the nurse and Daryl, her stance combative. "I can do that, if you don't mind."

          "No, of course not. I would think you're quite used to looking after him yourself. You know to check for signs of infection and swelling?"

          Carol nodded, releasing the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The tension slowly eased from her stiff posture as the woman moved towards the door and rested her hand on the knob.

          "There's some Tylenol and antibiotics in the kit. He'll need another dose in about an hour."

          Carol offered her a tentative smile, knowing she could like this girl if they were given time to get acquainted. "Thank you … for taking care of my Daryl. He can be a bear with strangers. I hope he didn't offend you."

          Sprite chuckled. "No worse than some and better than others." She opened the door, so Carol could see Brian out in the hall. "If there's anything else you require, just knock on the door. Tori will be back later."

          Carol breathed a sigh of relief as the door was closed and locked once more, leaving her alone with her husband. First things first, she had to release him from his bonds. She could understand them leaving him bound. They saw him as dangerous, and their women were to be protected at all costs. But he had to be hurting from being tied up for so long. Then again, perhaps she should leave him like that until she could see how angry he'd be with her.

          The collar of his sleeveless button-up was stiff with blood as her fingers brushed against his nape, his body jerking beneath her light touch. "Shh, it's okay, Daryl. I'm here."

          He groaned, his head slowly rising. He blinked several times, unable to believe she was really there. "I'm dreamin'," he croaked, his throat dry as sandpaper. Yet, he pressed into her palm affectionately as she brought her hand to his cheek. "Carol …"

          "No, not dreaming, Pookie. I'm really here. Are you mad?" she asked, her bright blue eyes dancing with mischief.

          Daryl gaped at her. "They got you too?" His gaze dropped to her belt where only her knife rested at her hip. "How'd y' get t' keep your knife?"

          "That's an interesting story, actually. I kind of just walked up to the gate and demanded they release my husband," she admitted sheepishly. She drew her knife and sawed through his bonds, freeing him.

          "Y' what?! Are y' crazy, woman?!" He rubbed at his wrists where the ropes had cut into his skin. He hadn't sat idly once they'd brought him down to the basement room, but the bonds had been too tight to free himself. "An' where are th' kids? Are they safe?"

          Carol knelt before him, her hands kneading at his arms as she tried to help restore his circulation. "Did you really think I wouldn't come for you? For better or worse, Daryl. And don't worry about the children. They're with Rick."

          "That's not comfortin', Carol." His smoky blue gaze narrowed on her. "An' there's nowhere in th' vows that said t' risk your own life t' come after me!"

          She shot him a withering look and stalked over to the table to retrieve the bowl. She shoved it into his hands. "Eat," she commanded. "You must be starving."

          Daryl took a hesitant sniff at his food, his stomach growling painfully. "I oughta kick Rick's skinny ass for lettin' y' come in here like that," he said, shoveling large spoonfuls of stew into his mouth.

          "Stop!" she hissed, pacing before him. "I'm not arguing with you, Daryl. I didn't give Rick a choice. He sent Glenn and Maggie back to the house with the meds for Andrea and to get T-Dog and Shane and more weapons should we need them. He wanted to wait for dawn, and get a better feel for this place and its people. I wasn't willing to wait. I told him I was going to where we'd parked the truck to get blankets and some protein bars for the kids. It's not my fault he trusts so easily."

          "Fuck! Y' blew that all t' shit, didn't y'? He ain't gonna make th' mistake o' trustin' y' again. Not when y' lied straight t' his face," he snarled, passing the half empty bowl back to her. "Here, eat th' rest o' that. Knowin' you, breakfast was th' last time y' filled your belly."

          Carol took it from him and set it back on the table. "I need to check your wound first." The pill bottles rattled as she shook out a dose of antibiotics and Tylenol, handing the pills to him with a bottle of water. He didn't hesitate to take them from her as he had the nurse earlier.

          He sat down and lowered his head, so she could get to his wound easily. "What if they'd shot y'? Or dragged y' inside an' …" he couldn't finish. "Didn't y' see how many men they had?"

          Carol bit her lip to hold back an angry retort, focusing on rebandaging his wound. "I did. But it doesn't matter."

          He turned, grabbing her hand and pulling her around to stand in the vee of his legs. "How can y' say that? Don't y' think it woulda mattered t' our daughter if y' didn't get back? Or me? What about Lori an' Andrea … or Carl or everybody else who loves y'?"

          "Because … I couldn't stand the thought of what these people might be doing to you," she whispered, brushing the hair away from his eyes. "If I couldn't negotiate your release, at least I'd be here  _with_  you, Daryl."

          "A prisoner!"

          "But you wouldn't be alone," she whispered, her voice breaking.

          Daryl pulled her down to straddle his lap, cursing himself inwardly as he felt her tears wet his shirt where she pressed her face into his shoulder. "Don't y' know … I ain't never alone, woman. You're always with me."

          She nestled deeper into his embrace, her arms trapped against his chest as his hands roamed gently over her back. "I c-couldn't leave you," she whispered against his throat. "I felt as if I couldn't breathe, like someone had carved out a vital piece of me and nothing would ever be the same if I couldn't get you back. I felt broken, Daryl."

          "Y' ain't broken," he growled, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You're strong … y' gotta be for Sophia."

          "I need  _you_. You are my strength."

          His throat felt tight. It was still hard for him to believe someone could harbor such deep-seated feelings for him. She would risk everything for him, and it scared him to death. He wasn't worth her life. "Don't cry … please. Y' know it tears me up t' see y' like this."  
          "I can't help it," she cried softly. "I'm sorry."

          "Don't be sorry, baby." He'd scold her later for her rash and impulsive behavior, but not now … not now when it felt so good to have her back in his arms where she belonged. He tilted her chin up and wiped away her tears before he let his lips find hers. He felt as if he'd come home. A loud growl from her stomach broke them apart, and he pushed her off his lap. "Go … eat. You're gonna need your strength."

          She watched him stretch out on his stomach on the small twin bed, cradling his head on his arms. He must've been more tired than she'd thought. Usually, he'd be pacing a hole in the tiles searching for a way out. There were no windows in the basement room, and the only door was locked from the outside. They'd have to wait. She'd managed to eat a quarter of what was left in the bowl before he spoke again.

          "So Xena … y' got a plan t' spring us from this joint?" he teased.

          Carol rolled her eyes. "Haha, very funny."

          "Well, what did y' see when they brought y' in? I was unconscious an' didn't see much o' nothin'," he said bitterly. "We might be able t' disarm a few o' 'em."

          "There won't be any need for that. Their leader wants an alliance with our group. Tori will be back soon. She wants to meet with Rick."

          He raised his head and frowned at her. "What? Y' don't know these people!"

          "And I won't if we can't sit down and talk rationally." She arched a brow at him as she set the bowl down and rose to her feet. "Especially without a certain irate redneck losing his temper."

          Daryl snorted as he turned on his side and made room for her on the bed.

          "I had a nice long chat with her when I was brought in. They're not bad people, Daryl, but they're not strong like us. Their men are good soldiers, I'm sure, but they lack weapons and supplies. Their scavenging techniques need improving as do the choices they make for shelter. They could benefit from an alliance with us."

          He pulled her close, never ceasing to be amazed by how perfectly she fit against him. "You  _like_  her."

          "I could easily  _be_  her, Daryl … if I lost you."

          He didn't like that thought at all. "Fine, we'll get Rick t' meet with her. Y' know we ain't got room and supplies t' take in a group this size, right?"

          "Mhmm … but there's nothing saying we can't find a bigger place."

          "Y' got an answer for everythin', don't y'?"

          She shook her head and burrowed against him, seeking out his warmth. "No … but this is the right choice. If Merle is successful in his plans, they would have a real shot. They could come to Woodbury with us. The men could offer protection, and I met the woman who cared for your wound. She's a nurse. She'd be invaluable to Hershel."

          Daryl leaned over and slanted his lips over hers in a silencing kiss, leaving them both breathless when they pulled apart. "Hush, woman. Y' ain't gotta convince me. I trust your judgment."

          "You're not angry with me?"

          "Didn't say that."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl's eyes narrowed menacingly on the door as the knob rattled, the sound of a key turning in the lock making him tense. His hand toyed with the knife on his wife's hip. Carol hadn't been asleep long, but what slumber she’d found was easy and deep. She always slept like the dead when he was there to watch over her. The woman he'd seen earlier stepped into the room, flanked on either side by one of her marine bodyguards. He wondered how capable she'd be without them.

          "You look better," she said pleasantly, waving the others back. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get back, but I needed to reassure my people. Some are more difficult than others, I'm afraid." She eyed his hand where it caressed the large hunting knife. "You're not going to make me a liar, are you?"

          He felt a surge of satisfaction rush through him as her eyes darkened with worry. Instead of answering, he leaned down, his lips ghosting over his wife's ear. "Wake up, baby … your friend's here."

          Carol curled closer to him, frowning in her sleep. "Tell Lori I don't want to eat SPAM again."

          Daryl snorted. "Not that friend, woman."

           Her eyes flew open and her head shot up, nearly head-butting him in the chin when she realized where she was. She rolled over to see Tori trying to hide a grin behind her hand. "Oh … hi."

Tori watched the woman swing herself around on the small bunk and lever herself into a sitting position. "Hi, yourself. You ready to bring your friends in from the cold? We gathered up some blankets and Alex said we have leftover stew if they're hungry."

          A growl rumbled low in Daryl's chest as he stood up behind Carol and curled a protective arm around her waist, pulling her back into his body. "Daryl, behave," she admonished. "They're not a threat to us." To Tori she said, "You'll have to forgive my husband. He's a neanderthal."

          "I'll show y' a neanderthal when I get y' back t' th' house, woman," he whispered lowly so only she could hear.

          "But protective. That's a good thing." The woman smiled sadly as she led them from the room. "Be thankful he's still with you."

          Tori led, Carol and Daryl following her up the stairs, the two marines on their heels. His smoky blue gaze, hidden by his fringe of bangs, didn't miss a thing as they progressed through the building. Jamie was waiting for them, ready to lead one of them outside to gather the remainder of their people.

          "Only one of you leaves until we talk to your leader," the sergeant said, catching Tori's eye. She didn't look happy about it. She wanted an alliance with this new group, and it wasn't a show of trust to hold one of them hostage while the other was allowed to leave.

          Carol nodded, unperturbed by the man's caution. "Daryl should go. Rick's less likely to lock him in the truck and post a guard."

          He shot her a squinty-eyed look, one which threatened no end of violence. "Let 'im try." He looked over at the woman again. "Where's my bow?"

          "I believe Tessa has it. She's of the opinion you'll break free and shoot us all. It'll take a bit of coaxing to get it back from her."

          The hunter's teeth gnashed. "I go out there without it, Rick's gonna think it's a ploy, an' he ain't gonna co-operate. So, I suggest y' see about  _coaxin'_  it away from 'er."

          "Brian!" The strawberry blond who'd accompanied them upstairs sighed and stepped forward. "I need that crossbow."

          He grimaced. "Why I always got the shit jobs?"

          "You married her. Suck it up!"

          It was another thirty minutes before he returned with it. A half hour of Daryl prowling restlessly around the commissary, but also a short respite where Carol was able to talk to some of the other women. She complimented Alex on the meal, looking forward to sharing recipes with her. Sprite asked about Daryl's wound and recommended pulling icicles from the overhang on the building, crushing them and using them to reduce the swelling. Kayla was rather shy and didn't say much. Yet, Carol knew well how looks could be deceiving. This girl was layered, steel at her core to have survived this long.

          Daryl yanked the crossbow out of the man's hands and did a quick survey to check for damage. Carol bit back a grin. It must be eating at him to know someone besides himself had touched his precious weapon. He settled it on his right arm with a contented grunt and followed the sergeant to the front of the building.

          Jamie stopped in front of the gate as it swung open. "You think you can maybe signal them from here? Something tells me your little wife wouldn't be too thrilled to have you disappear."

          He pushed the man aside and stopped maybe three feet from the iron enclosure. His hawk-like eyes, already adjusted to the faint light of the moon and surrounding darkness, searched the shadows. Flat land to the south and west, an incline to the east and the building obscuring his view to the north. Rick would be on the incline if he had any sense. Two short whistles rained from his lips, and he stepped back to wait.

          Carl and Sophia came down the incline, jostling for position with Rick chasing after them cursing a blue streak. "Daddy!" his daughter cried, launching herself into his arms. He caught her with his left and buried his face against her small shoulder. "I was so scared. Are you alright?"

          He set her down and ruffled Carl's hair, knocking the Stetson off his head. "Yeah, I'm fine. Bump on th' head, s'all. Y' alright?"

          "What did I tell you two?" Rick hissed furiously as he pulled his son behind him. "This is the last time I'm taking you on a run. Don't listen for shit!"

          Daryl eyed the colt clasped tightly in his friend's hand. "Y' can put that away. They ain't out t' hurt nobody."

          "Tell that to your bandaged head, Dad," Sophia snarked, shuffling from foot to foot as her bow and pack bounced on her back. "Is Mom ok?"

          "Your mama's fine."

          "I almost had to tie these two to a tree to keep them from going after her when they saw that stunt Carol pulled," Rick said, holstering his sidearm. He looked over the hunter's shoulder. "Where is she?"

          "Inside. My woman's wantin' t' take in more strays," he murmured, still a little disgusted these people had gotten the drop on him. "Carol trusts 'em."

          Rick planted his hands on his hips and got that suspicious cop look on his face. "What do you think?"

          Daryl glared at him. "She ain't been wrong yet. Talk to this woman an' make up your own mind. Either way, I want t' get th' kids inside. We're too exposed out here."

          Rick nodded and approached the gate, the children close to Daryl's side as he followed. Jamie shook his head as he looked down at them. "You take kids out on scavenging runs with you? You're all brands of suicidal, ain't you?"

          Sophia made a loud  _hmph_  noise as she turned up her nose and marched past him into the building. Carl, however, wasn't going to let the marine's slur go. "Kids, huh? Just so you know … Sophia could probably outshoot you,  _and_  you really shouldn't mess with her. She's in charge of the grenades."

          Daryl looped an arm over the boy's shoulder and led him inside, leaving the marine gaping behind them.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: So … a little more insight into the new group. Poor desperate souls. Think Rick will let them join? We'll have to wait and see. And yayness! Carol and Daryl reunited. Next time: Rick makes a decision, Maggie and Glenn return with reinforcements, the spa is attacked.


	52. Chapter 52

 

          Daryl grabbed the strap of Sophia's pack, pulling her back as she lunged towards her mother. He shook his head when she looked back at him, hurt that he wouldn't let her greet Carol. Rick was first. Carol had been left under his leadership, his protection, when she'd disobeyed his orders. To make matters worse, she'd then  _lied_  about where she was going and gotten herself captured, killed or worse.

          Rick's mouth was set in a thin line of displeasure as the marine stepped back with a nod, leaving him alone with a room full of women. Carol stood next to a pretty brunette who seemed to be in charge. "You!" he hissed. "How am I supposed to trust you when you take off like that?"

          Carol grimaced, biting her lip. "I can explain, Rick. I –"

          "Do you want me to take you off runs indefinitely for this?"

          Daryl snorted where he leaned against the wall, the kids at his side. Rick knew Daryl went nowhere without his wife if it could be avoided.

          "I don't care if I have to ground my best man, too! You risked your life –"

          Fire flashed behind her azure eyes. "I risked my life for my  _husband!_  Now back off, Grimes! You would have done the same if it had been Lori or Carl, so stop being such a hypocrite!" She gentled her tone. Now was not the time to bicker with their leader, not when decisions had to be made. "I know it was wrong, and I was taking a huge risk, ok? It won't happen again."

          His hands planted on his hips, his chin dipping against his chest, he shook his head. "Until the next time, right?"

          Carol grinned sheepishly. "Probably?"

          Rick sighed and pulled her into a quick hug. "I'm glad you're ok, but please don't put me through that again, Carol. The kids were frantic, and I thought I was going to lose my mind having to tell Lori I’d lost you."

          She poked him in the ribs playfully, freeing herself from his embrace. Her husband could be a beast when he was jealous, even when there was no cause for such where Rick was involved. She turned to the woman avidly watching their exchange, and smiled. "Rick, this is Tori. She's the leader of this group, and I'd like for you to talk to her. Listen to her story, let her tell you about her people, and then make a decision. Don't go into this thinking of them taking Daryl captive. I want you to have an open mind, alright?"

          "You've made up your mind, have you?" he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-moon grin.

          Carol gave his shoulder a squeeze. "It's you who must be convinced."

          Rick sat down on one side of the table as the Dixons and Carl took the other. Sprite and Kayla brought in steaming bowls of stew for Rick and the kids, Daryl and Carol having already eaten.

          "How's that head, sunshine?" the nurse asked the hunter as she handed Sophia a spoon.

          He gave her a long measuring look before he nodded.

          She turned to Carol. "We're gonna let you all settle in. Miles brought up some blankets and pillows from storage downstairs," she said pointing to a corner of the commissary. She shrugged. "Someone's always in here, so we thought it would be a good place for y'all to bunk for the night. If you need anything, just holler."

          Sophia held her bowl as she stared longingly at her father. "Daddy?" she whispered, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention.

          Daryl knew exactly what she wanted. She'd almost lost him today, and she was feeling mighty vulnerable. He held his arms open to her. "C'mon, Soph," he said gently, letting her crawl onto his lap. She settled with a contented sigh and began wolfing down her food.

          Carol shook her head. Sophia was becoming more and more like Daryl, even taking up his eating habits. They were coming to learn if you didn't eat fast on the road, you may very well go hungry. At least she didn't lick her fingers. Carol didn't think she could stand it. Their girl set her bowl on the table and burrowed into her father's embrace. Her eyes were heavy, and Carol knew it wouldn't be long before Sophia drifted off.

          "Tori – oh sorry to interrupt, ma'am – but where do you want this?" Rory asked as he and Miles brought up two of the twin mattresses from the basement.

          The woman pointed to the corner and the men left, but Carol had a sneaking suspicion they wouldn't venture too far. She knew Daryl wouldn't trust them if the situation were reversed. She chanced a glance in his direction to see his own eyes drooping. His gaze shot from her to the corner, and she didn't hesitate to make a place for their daughter on one of the proffered mattresses. He winced as he rose with Sophia in his arms, no doubt from the throbbing in his head, and tucked her in.

          They returned to the table in time to hear Rick questioning the leader of this new group. He pulled Carol down onto the chair next to him and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. After the day he'd had – the day they'd  _both_  had – he needed to reassure himself she was real.

          Rick scrubbed two fingers over his chin as he regarded the woman. She seemed strong and capable, willing to compromise. She had done well for her own group so far. "How many walkers have you killed?" he asked, curious. It was the first time he'd felt the need to ask that question, and he could feel Daryl's curious gaze upon the back of his neck.

          Tori shot him a puzzled frown, but answered nonetheless. "I don't know … more than a dozen but less than fifty? I'm good with a knife … we all are, but the men are more proficient with their rifles. As I said, it's been a hard road."

          "For some more than others," he murmured sympathetically. "How many  _men_  have you killed?"

          The woman swallowed audibly and looked down at her hands clasped on her lap. "One."

          "Why?"

          Her hazel eyes flashed hotly. "Because he took my Joseph from me. After we escaped, my men went back. They slaughtered that entire camp. I can only be thankful there were no children. He was their lieutenant. There was no way they wouldn't avenge his death. They brought the ringleader to me … and Jamie handed me Joseph's knife." Her lip trembled, her voice wavered. "I drove it right into his gut. I knew it would be painful, and that it would take time … time for him to suffer. I wanted him to feel the pain he'd caused me. I sat there and watched him bleed out. I listened to him scream, and then I watched him turn. Only then did I end him for good." She grasped onto Rick's hand as he reached out and covered hers. "I'm not proud of what I did, but … it gave me strength … to do what I had to do to lead my people in my husband's stead." She squared her shoulders, girding herself against the coming rejection. "I guess you wouldn't want to have anything to do with someone like me, but please don't hold it against them. They  _need_  this."

          "You would let them go?" he asked incredulously.

          "If it would keep them safe and fed … yes."

          That statement made up his mind, and Rick turned his gaze to Daryl who nodded. Carol's own eyes were pleading with him to make the right decision. "My brother," he said gently, tipping his head towards the hunter, "he once told me this isn't our world anymore … the old world. We have to adapt and change to fit it. You protected your  _family_  and god knows how many others those people would have destroyed along the way. I think we'd do well to have you join us."

          Her eyes widened. "Join you?"

          Rick sat back in his chair and picked up his bowl which had gone untouched while he listened to her story. "I don't see why we couldn't shift things around a bit to accommodate y'all. As long as you're willing to put in the work and pull your weight."

          "Of course! My people aren't afraid of hard work. And we have supplies to contribute. My sister-in-law is a nurse … she scavenges meds like you wouldn't believe." She couldn't keep the relief out of her voice.

          Daryl shook his head, unable to help the smirk curling the corner of his chapped lips. "They got a decent cook too. Keep Lori's ass outta th' kitchen."

          He grunted as Carol poked him in the ribs. "Don't be mean," she scolded.

          The former deputy grinned. Even he had to agree with Daryl that Lori wasn't the genius Carol was in the kitchen. "Go on. Tell your people what was decided. We need to get y'all packed up to move out tomorrow."

          Tori leaned in and kissed his stubbled cheek. "Thank you," she whispered with heartfelt gratitude. "We won't disappoint you."

 

*.*.*

 

          It didn't take long for Rick to take up residence on one of the mattresses the marines had brought up, tucking Carl into his side for warmth and pulling a blanket up over their heads. The facility which had once served as a spa didn't have power, and it got rather chilly at night. Daryl insisted his wife curl up next to Sophia on their mattress and he made a pallet out of some of the spare blankets on the floor next to them.

          Sophia sprawled all over her mother's back as Carol laid down, throwing an arm over her chest and one slender leg over Carol's hip. She was snoring softly again in moments. Carol didn't mind, the warm weight of her daughter a comfort to her. She took her husband's hand in hers, twining their fingers together and tucking their joined hands beneath her chin.

          He rolled onto his side to face her. "Y' look mighty pleased with yourself, woman," he scoffed.

          "I am. Our group is growing. More protection is good for us … for them too."

          "More mouths t' feed," he grumbled. "More bodies takin' up what limited space we got. Ain't got no privacy as it is."

          Carol ran the fingers of her free hand through his shaggy hair, smiling as he shivered. "Then we'll find a bigger place. I have faith in you … in Rick and Shane." She leaned over the edge of the mattress and brought his lips to hers for a long tender kiss. "I miss you, too, Pookie," she purred breathlessly.

          He pressed his body closer to the mattress as she tossed a blanket over them, seeking her warmth. "Gonna pack yer ass out t' th' woods," he warned, closing his eyes wearily against the dull throb in the back of his head. "Getting’ t' where I cain't get no time with m' own wife."

          She sniffled, bringing his gaze back to her. "I'm so glad you're ok. If something –"

          Daryl leaned up and kissed her quiet. "Hush. I ain't goin' nowhere, Carol. Done toldja that."

          Carol brushed her tears away and closed her eyes. "You do, and I'll hunt you down, Daryl Dixon."

          He chuckled and smiled into his pillow. "Don't I know it."

 

*.*.*

 

          "Naw … there's got to be some kinda mistake."

          "T-Dog's right," Shane cut in. "This is Dixon we're talking about."

          Maggie rolled her eyes at the two as they stood on watch on the front porch of the Colonial. "There's no mistake. Y'know even Daryl isn't invincible."

          Glenn shook his head. "From what we've gathered, Carl and Sophia saw it go down. He was backing away from these guys – marines from the looks of them – and this woman clocked him in the back of the head with her rifle. They took him to their camp, and Rick sent us back here to drop the supplies and get you to come with us, so we can come up with some kind of plan to rescue him."

          Lori wrapped her arms around herself, dropping her head as she forced herself to remain calm. It was late, and she'd been pacing the porch for hours waiting for the run group to return. She hadn't expected them to come back without her husband and son. "But Rick and the kids? Carol … they're ok?"

          "They were fine when we left them," Maggie said, shouldering her pack. "I'm going to bring these meds in to Daddy and grab some more ammo. We need to get back there as soon as we can. I don't like the idea of them being out there alone."

          "Why didn't he send the children back with you?" Lori demanded.

          T-Dog disappeared into the house behind Maggie to grab some provisions and more weapons.

          Glenn shot her an incredulous look. "Do you realize what kind of hell we would've had to deal with trying to bring them back? They weren't just going to come along nicely with Daryl being held by unknowns. Not to mention they're both a crack shot."

          "Glenn, they're children!" Shane snorted, and her head whipped around, her dark eyes glaring daggers at him. "You got something to say, Walsh?"

          "Uh … no?" He rubbed at the back of his neck, not wanting to get into it with her. "But you know if Rick had forced them to come back to the house we'd have had to lock them in a room to keep them from sneaking out again."

          Glenn pressed his lips together before he started laughing and couldn't stop. "All I'm saying is Rick may need them to be there. Carl and Sophia aren't your average kids, Lori. They know how to take care of themselves … Daryl trained them himself."

          "He's right," Shane said. "They'll be fine."

          "I'm going with you," she declared, reaching for the door to go grab her own gear.

          "You're not serious!" Glenn nearly shouted in alarm. "You're pregnant. Rick would have all our heads if we brought you back with us."

          "Oh, hell no!" Shane growled. "You're going to stay here and wait. Someone has to keep an eye on Andrea."

          Lori knew what he was doing, playing on her sympathy for her sick friend, but it didn't help to calm her fears any. "That is my  _family_  out there, Shane! And my best friend and her daughter! How can you expect me to just sit back and wait?"

          "Carol?" Shane scoffed. "She'd be the first one to kick your ass for putting yourself and that baby in danger."

          "Lori, we got this," Glenn added calmly. "We'll be back in a couple of hours … all of us."

          She shot them both a heated look and stalked back into the house to worry, to fret, and most of all … to pray.

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl grunted softly as he sat up. His neck was stiff, and his back ached, but what was worse, he couldn't tell what it was exactly that had woken him. He reached for Carol, squinting at the watch on her arm and hoping he hadn't disturbed her. Three a.m. At least he'd been able to get a few hours' sleep. He rotated his head, wincing when his neck popped, and looked over to where Carl snored softly. Rick was nowhere to be found.

          "Where are you going?" his wife's whispered query reaching him.

          "Gotta take a piss. Did I wake you?"

          Carol shook her head. "Couldn't sleep."

          "Try," he growled the command. "I'll be back." He pulled his jacket on and grabbed his crossbow, nodding to one of the marines as he passed. Damned if he knew which one it was. If they were going to become part of their group, though, he'd have to learn their names. He stopped at the bathroom and took care of business. Funny how the facility had running water, but he wasn't complaining.

          Daryl slipped outside to find Rick and the sergeant chatting quietly about the move. "Hey. Couldn't sleep?"

          Rick winced. "Not with my son kneeing me in the groin," he said ruefully. "We were just talking about going up the hill to wait for the others to come back. I don't think it would be a good idea to think we'd got taken too."

          "I'll go," Daryl volunteered. He knew his girls – or at least Sophia – would rest for several more hours, and there was little chance of him falling back to sleep on his pallet. He was used to going sometimes two to three days without slumber when the situation warranted. "Just let Carol know where I went. She gets reckless when she's kept outta th' loop."

          "Y' think?"

          Tessa shot him a narrow-eyed glare as she opened the gate for him, but she didn't say anything. That was a formidable woman, and sneaky as fuck. He wanted to stay well away from her. He zipped his jacket and snapped his vest closed against the cold before slipping into the shadows. The place really wasn't fit to offer any sort of protection aside from the wall. The area surrounding the drive was the only open space they could see anyone approaching, and the hill would give an enemy a vantage point to study them for days. He'd been surprised when Rick had offered sanctuary with them at the colonial, but the hunter wouldn't object. Not for decent people who could only add strength with their numbers and various skills.

          Stealthily, he crept up the incline, sticking to the shadows and moving with as little noise as possible. The fine hairs rose on the back of his neck, a tingle of alarm crackling along his spine as he ducked behind a thick beech tree. The whisper of voices, the unsteady movement of heavy boots. None of which belonged to his people. He knew the sound of every pair of feet in his group. There were strangers creeping around in the woods surrounding the spa. Damnit! He hurried his own steps up the incline to the top of the hill, wanting the advantage.

          He was met with the barrel of Shane's Mossberg. "Dixon! The hell, man?! We thought you were being held prisoner!" came the former deputy's grumbled hiss. "Where's Rick? Carol and the kids?"

          Glenn clapped him on the shoulder – which was uncomfortable enough – and then Maggie threw her arms around him in a bear hug. What the hell was it with everyone always wanting to be so touchy-feely? He shook her off with a pained grimace and leveled Shane with his piercing stare, daring the man to try something. T-Dog merely grinned. Assholes!

          "We got bigger problems than where our people are." He beckoned them to kneel at the edge of the hill where he could now see movement towards the back wall.

          T shrugged. "So, let them take out the people who held you. Save us the trouble."

          "No!" Daryl swung around to look at them all. "Rick jus' had a sit down with their leader. They're coming back t' th' house with us in th' mornin'."

          "What?!" Maggie gasped. "Daryl –"

          He closed his fist, bringing her quiet instantly as she recognized the signal. He pointed to her and Glenn and gestured to the far wall. "Go, come in on th' west side from th' main road weapons hot. They don't look too friendly. Shane?"

          "You're asking me? Looks to me you're doing just fine on your own," the man snarked with a grin.

          T-Dog wiped the amusement off his face and volunteered to take the east wall at the bottom of the incline. Which left Shane and Daryl coming in from the north behind the rogue group. With a nod, they gave T, Maggie and Glen time to put some distance between them before they headed down the hill, slowly trekking north. They were spread out enough to see their partner, but far enough not to be right on top of each other. Perhaps if Daryl hadn't been so busy watching out for Shane, he would have seen the man easing out of the trees to ambush him. The hunter groaned as the impact jarred his stitched head. His crossbow flew from his hands as he hit the ground, but he wasn't defenseless. Daryl's hand closed over his knife as he rolled into the man's legs, tripping him. Before his enemy could gain his footing again, Daryl drove his blade through the back of his skull. He didn't need the bastard turning and causing another complication.

          The sounds of their scuffle drew the marines on watch, rifles and a battery powered spotlight pointing towards the rear wall as Tessa and Rick covered the gate. Daryl counted ten men before they ducked and covered, hiding in the woods as they opened fire.

          Shane cursed as he dove behind a fallen log and took aim in the dark. "You sure none of our people are out here?"

          "Naw, jus' us," he replied, pulling back the string on his crossbow and checking for damage to his weapon. He ducked down next to his partner as a hail of bullets flew over their heads.

          "They don't know who to fire at. Might give us an advantage."

          "Shit!" More men were coming in behind the rogues, firing upon them. Were they enemies or did they want a piece of Tori's camp for themselves. "Shane," he growled, jerking his head in the newcomer's direction.

          "What are we supposed to do now!?"

          Daryl crouched low and stepped over the fallen log. "C'mon, we'll make a break for th' back gate. Maggie an' Glenn should already be there an' we can grab T on th' way."

          Shane followed, covering Daryl's flank. The hunter took small comfort in knowing he wouldn't get shot in the back. And then the world fell away and he felt as if he couldn't breathe. The kids were up on the wall with their bows. He saw one of Sophia's arrows lodge in the throat of a big bear of a man, her mouth set in a grim line as she nocked another arrow and took aim. He ran faster, gripping his crossbow more tightly in his sweaty hands. He fired, taking another down, but he had to get to his family. If the kids were on the wall, then Carol had to be in an equally dangerous position. Why couldn't he see her?

          Another of the rogues barreled his way into Daryl's path and he took him down with his knife. Shane fired behind him, assuring the hunter he hadn't lost his partner in the melee. They were almost there. He could see Carl casting his bow down and drawing his Browning pistol. Sophia wasn't on the wall anymore, but he could see Carol now, .45 clutched in her hand. Another hundred yards and he'd be there fighting at her side. A shot, far too close for comfort had him veering to the left, but Shane dispatched the man easily. T-Dog was at Shane's side as they grew closer, but his wife was down, and Rick was dragging her back through the gate behind the safety of the wall. Maggie was barking orders for a stretcher, some help to bring her inside, and he felt as if his chest were going to explode with the fear and rage pumping his heart.

          "Carol!" he roared, just a few yards from the gate. He went down too, only this time Shane and another man had a firm hold on him. He tried to fight them off, wild in his need to get to her. The face of his brother stared back at him, and the dam of emotion he kept so fiercely constrained broke loose and he fell into Merle's arms.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ugh! Another cliffie? *evil grin* I really hope y'all enjoyed it. Lemme know whatcha think. :D Next time: Marty and Maggie patch Carol up and Merle has a lot of explaining to do. Thanks so much for reading!


	53. Chapter 53

 

 

          "Where's Dad going?" Sophia questioned her mother around a yawn as she sat up and reached for the pack Daryl had put next to the bed.

          Carol smiled up at her daughter and took the water bottle Sophia offered. "He's just going to the bathroom … and probably to find out where Rick went. You don't have to get up yet," she said, glancing down at her watch. "It's just after three."

          The girl frowned. She didn't like this place. It smelled funny, like mildew, sweet and sickly. And she didn't care too much for the people who had hurt her father and taken him captive, in spite of what her mother said. Just because Carol had been right about Randall, didn't mean Sophia was ready to trust them. She wanted to go back to the colonial and be with her own people. Reaching into the pack, she pulled her mother's handguns from within and set them on the mattress between them. "Thought you might want those back," she grinned. "You know Daddy doesn't like you to take them off."

          "How –"

          "Rick brought them back when he went to the truck and you weren't there," she explained. She fidgeted with the strap on her pack, averting her gaze. "Was Dad very mad when you were taken, too?"

          Carol groaned inwardly, seeing the anguish on her daughter's face. "Of course, he was. He doesn't approve when I put myself in danger." She sat up next to the girl, studying her closely. "Sophia … you don't think Daryl would hurt me, do you?" The last thing she wanted was for her to fear him.  Sophia shook her head, but still wouldn't meet her eyes. "He's not Ed."

          Sophia rolled her eyes. "I know he's not, Mama. I trust him, but sometimes I remember how Ed was with you and I remember … I know Daddy would never hurt you."

          Carol pulled her daughter into her arms and smoothed a hand over her hair. Ed had left her so damaged, and it broke Carol's heart. She was confident Sophia didn't fear Daryl, or ever think he would hurt either of them, but there were those memories she doubted the girl would ever forget how they'd suffered in the past. Times she'd hidden under her bed with her hands over her ears, so she wouldn't have to hear her mother's screams. Other times when she'd seek refuge with one of the neighbors because Carol had shoved her out of the kitchen door to avoid her father's wrath. It was too much for her young mind to handle, and it made Carol want to kill the bastard all over again. "I know, baby."

          Sophia buried her face against her mother's shoulder, seeking warmth and comfort only Carol could give her. "I was so scared … when those men took him. I don't want to lose him, Mama. We just found him, and now I have a Daddy who loves me. You have a husband who cares for you instead of one who hurts you. I don't want it to be like before."

          "Don't cry, Sophia. Daryl isn't going to be taken from us."

          "You don't know that!" the girl cried, the sound muffled against her mother's dark shirt.

          Carol sighed as she comforted her baby girl. "No, I don't, and I won't make any promises, but I do know he would never willingly leave us. He will fight with his last breath to keep us safe. But, Sophia … it will never be as it was before. That I can promise you. We're different …  _better …_  now. We're strong and will never allow someone like Ed to hurt us again."

          "Because we're Dixons now, right? And Dixons are tough as nails. Merle says so."

          Carol laughed softly and pressed a kiss to Sophia's brow. "And if Merle says so, it's gospel."

          "Damn straight."

          The moment was ruined, however, as Tori hurried into the room, her mouth set in a grim line. "We've got hostiles advancing on the back gate. You might want to take the children to the basement."

          Carol checked her weapons and slid the holsters onto her belt as Sophia scrambled off her lap to wake Carl and grab her bow. "How many?"

          "We don't know yet. What are you doing?" the woman called after her as Carol herded the kids towards the front of the building to find Rick.

          "We're going out there to help defend you and your people, Tori. I'm not going to hide in the basement while your men are out there fighting. It's not how we do things." Tori followed, sliding a clip into her semi-automatic rifle as they gained the courtyard and skirted around the building.

          "The children –"

          "Are really good shots," Carol said proudly. She left the leader of the new group behind, hurrying over to the gate where Rick had already taken up a defensive stance. "Carl, Sophia … up on the wall, behind the lights." She pointed to where the old gas lamps were positioned atop brick pedestals. "Use them for cover."

          She joined rick at the wrought iron gate, surprised to find the lock broken. "Our people are out there," he hissed, pointing to the west where Glenn and Maggie had joined the fray and sent a steady spray of gunfire at the rogues.

          "Daryl?"

          He pointed northeast to the last place he'd spotted the hunter. "He's with Shane. They're working their way over. We've got ten to fifteen unknowns out there."

          "This is going to draw every walker within five miles!" she shouted over the noise, taking aim as Rick backed away to reload. At least with the silencer on the .45, she wouldn't be blamed. Carol gaped as more men came out of the woods, firing on the hostiles. She grabbed Rick's arm to get his attention. "Look! There's more, but they're shooting at them, too! What the hell is going on? Are they trying to take the facility too?"

          A slow grin of surprise formed on his mouth. Maggie and Glenn burst through the gate, and they were smiling, too, despite the battle waging around them. "Merle's out there with his people!" Glenn shouted triumphantly.

          Rick ducked as a stray bullet whizzed past his ear. He could see Daryl and Shane, now joined by T-Dog barreling towards the wall. "Everyone, back up … give them room to get through. Carol –"

          Maggie screamed. Carol glanced down at the blood seeping through her fingertips, the stray bullet having ripped through her jacket to pierce her side. She could hear the sound of gunfire, the anguished pleas of her friends, and the mournful wail of her husband as he neared the gate at a run. She fell back into Rick's arms as Maggie called for help to get her inside, her daughter's sweet face twisted into a grimace, Sophia's hysterical cry for her to be ok, tears dripping from the girl's eyes … before everything went black.

 

*.*.*

 

          The barrel of the Mossberg was still emitting a faint curl of smoke as Shane lowered it, his stunned gaze focused on his best friend barking orders to get Carol inside. Merle had both of his arms locked around Daryl's torso whispering urgently to him as the hunter fought to break his hold. He couldn't … no, not … they couldn't lose Carol, the former deputy thought. Marty's hand landed on his forearm, pulling him towards the back gate and leaving the Dixon brothers to get a handle on their emotions.

          "Fuckin' lemme go, Merle! I have t' go t' her, damnit … she's m' wife … my … my …" Daryl's voice broke, briefly slumping against his brother's solid form.

          Merle tightened his grip and rested his chin on Daryl's shoulder. "Stop it! Stop fuckin' fightin' me when I ain't yer enemy, little brother. Now pull yer head outta yer ass and calm th' fuck down."

          "I need t' go t' her, Merle!"

          "Y' need t' get yer shit together!" the elder Dixon growled, giving his brother a shake which rattled Daryl's teeth. "Y' think she needs t' see y' fall apart? Y' think Peach needs t' see her daddy losin' it? Carol's one o' th' toughest women I know. She had t' be, married t' that piece o' shit fer all them years." He huffed a sigh of relief as Daryl began to relax, taking his advice to heart. "That's it. Deep breaths."

          Merle dropped his arms and let his brother go, following swiftly as Daryl sprinted across the rough terrain to reach the gate. He prayed the whole way that whatever wound his sister-in-law had suffered, it wasn't serious. He didn't think Daryl would be able to handle losing his wife. He winced as he reached the back courtyard beyond the wall to find the chaos within. One of the marines had been hurt, his leg a bloody mess. He was being carried to the infirmary, a red-haired little harridan following, shouting instructions over the boy's screams. Maggie and Marty were directing Rick – who had Carol cradled carefully in his arms – to follow the others so they could look over Carol's injuries. Daryl had Sophia wrapped around him, her face buried in his neck as she wailed for her mother. He'd never seen the girl look so broken.

          He shifted his pack on his shoulders and let them lead the way, knowing he had new people to meet and a  _lot_  of explaining to do.

 

*.*.*

 

          Sophia was nearly choking him as she clung tightly to his neck. It reminded him of when he'd found her that day in the gorge and brought her home to Carol. She was deathly afraid – not a state he was used to seeing his daughter in – her little form trembling as he raced down the stairs with her to the infirmary where Rick was leading them. He hadn't paid much attention when he'd been there before, focused more on the little auburn-haired nurse and the pain pounding away in his skull. Now he could see it must've been a storage room when the spa had been open for business. There were no windows, only a few shelving units which could have been easily dragged down there to store their medical supplies. Four long tables were spaced evenly throughout to serve as gurneys, and he didn't hesitate to move to the one where his wife had been laid out.

          "D-Daddy … don't let M-Mama die. We need h-her," his girl sobbed.

          He was never so thankful to see his brother as Merle strode to his side to take Sophia into his care. "C'mon, Peach, y' know yer daddy ain't gonna let nothin' happen to yer mama." She cried harder when she saw him, and let him lift her up onto a gurney and out of the way.

          Daryl shuddered when he looked down at Carol, her face pale and waxen, a sharp contrast to her blood-covered hands. Maggie and Marty tried to get him to move, but he ignored them both. His head was swimming with adrenaline, and the young marine's cries of pain weren't helping any. "How is she?" the nurse called from where she was examining Rory's leg.

          The hunter helped Rick pull Carol's heavy leather jacket off her, so the women could assess her wound. He could feel the tightness behind his breastbone as he took in the blood soaking her shirt.

          "Breathe, Dixon!" Marty snapped when she looked up and got a glimpse of his face and the panic written there. "She's gonna be fine. She ain't th' first I've ever had to stitch up."

          "This ain't Merle or your daddy either, Marty!" he snapped.

          Martine rolled her eyes and ripped the front of Carol's shirt open, buttons flying. The shirt was beyond repair anyway, so she didn't see it as a loss. The tank was next to go, and she was staring at a small hole in Carol's side. Daryl couldn't help but notice it was almost in the same spot as he'd taken the bolt. Just above her left hip.

          Maggie went to the shelving unit and gathered supplies. Alcohol, sterile gauze, a suture kit – which they were lucky to have – and a pair of hemostats. She brought them back to the woman and laid them on the small metal tray at Marty's elbow. "It doesn't look too bad," Maggie commented, shooting Daryl a reassuring smile.

          "She's fuckin' bleedin' out, Maggie! Don't tell me it don't look bad!" he roared. Rick laid a calming hand on his shoulder, but Daryl shook him off. "And where th' fuck were you?! You shoulda been there t' protect her!"

          "I  _was_  there! In case you missed it, we were under fire, Daryl. It was crazy," Rick mumbled in his own defense. "She was right there with me the whole time."

          Marty's eyes flashed hotly as she scowled at them. "Knock it off, you two! Don't make me have Merle make y' leave. Maggie, hand me that alcohol so we can disinfect. Daryl, if y' can calm down, I need y' t' hold her … you, too, Rick. Keep her still 'cause this is gonna sting like a bitch."

          Carol twitched as the alcohol came in contact with her wound, but she didn't wake. "Why ain't she waking up?" Daryl barked, smoothing the hair away from her brow.

          "Could be she passed out from the pain, or she could be in shock. Either way, we got this," Marty said confidently.

          "Can't y' give 'er somethin' for th' pain?"

          "Don't wanna risk it," Marty shook her head. "Doctor S – he's our guy at Woodbury – said morphine can cause respiratory distress, 'specially if she's unconscious, an' I don't know nothin' about intubation. Just hold onto her an' we'll give her an oral when I'm done."

          Jamie came over to check on them. "Sprite wants t' know how she's doin'."

          "She got shot, y' ass. How th' hell y' think she's doin'?" the hunter spat.

          Maggie wedged herself between the two. "How's your man over there?" she inquired, using some of the gauze pads to wipe away the blood as Martine poured alcohol directly into the hole in Carol's side.

          The sergeant looked over his shoulder to where the nurse was working on Rory. "Took a bullet to his right thigh. Just missed the femoral artery, so it's not too bad. Didn't help when he fell off the roof though. Sprite should be able to get him patched up. She's good at what she does. Looks like you all know a bit of medical too."

          "My dad was a vet before this all happened. Our people learn real quick," she said proudly.

          "How's she doin', Sugar?" Merle asked from where he paced next to the gurney where Sophia sat still as a statue.

          "She's ok, Merle," Marty mumbled, probing the wound with the hemostats. "Bullet didn't go in as far as I thought. Musta been slowed down by th' leather of her jacket."

          "Daryl!" Carol hissed, her eyes fluttering as her body jerked.

          He pressed a hand to the center of her chest, pushing her back down as she tried to rise. Rick had a hold of her left shoulder, so it wasn't likely she was going to fight them both off. "Hey, it's a'right. I'm here. Need y' t' be still so Marty can get y' fixed up."

          The breath whooshed out of her as the hemostats dug deeper into her flesh. "It hurts!" she gasped.

          "I know, baby … just try t' be still," he muttered, smoothing a hand over her hair.

          "Am I dying?" she asked, reaching up to brush her fingertips over his wet cheeks.

          He shook his head furiously. "Hell no! Think I'd let y' leave us? You're gonna be fine."

          Rick breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the bullet plink into the little metal bowl Maggie held out to Martine. He swung his head around and shot a smile at Sophia. "Bullet's out, Sophia. Mama's gonna be ok. C'mon over here."

          Marty grinned at the girl as Sophia squeezed in between Rick and the gurney. "Just need to stitch her up, Peach."

          Sophia laid her head down next to her mother's. "You really going to be ok, Mama? You scared me."

          "I'll be right as rain in no time, baby," Carol breathed weakly. She shivered, and Daryl slipped out of his jacket, laying it over her chest. She'd been stripped down to her bra, so naturally she was cold.

          Carl bounded into the room just as Maggie was affixing a bandage to Carol's side. Abraham, Rosita and Tara followed, and Merle hopped off the gurney to address his people. "Y' got th' lot o' them bastards cleared out?"

          Rick took the opportunity to meet them. "Rick Grimes," he said, holding out his hand to shake the ginger's. "Wish we were meeting under better circumstances."

          "Heard a lot about you from Merle here. Can't say it's all good."

          Merle rolled his eyes. Rosita cocked out her hip and looked around at the activity in the room. "Two injuries? Not bad for a night's work."

          "You got any idea who that group was or what they wanted?" Rick inquired, bracing his hands on his hips, his face screwed up in a puzzled frown.

          The elder Dixon rubbed at the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable.

          "You didn't tell him?" Tara asked, shooting him a disapproving glance.

          "Tell me what?" Rick asked, looking between the girl and Daryl's brother.

          "An' when th' hell did I have time, girlie?" He fidgeted with the cuff on his arm as he looked over to the former deputy. "Those men belonged t' th' governor. Wanted me t' take 'em on this run, stretch their legs as it were."

          Daryl's head shot up as he swung around to glare at Merle. "Y' miserable simple-minded piece o' shit! Y' thought y' could get rid o' those men because they wouldn't toe your line? That it? Carol got SHOT, Merle!"

           "It weren't like that, Darylina –"

 Abraham guffawed loudly, his shoulders shaking. "Oh, I think it was exactly like that."

"You stow it, Abe!" Merle growled. He turned just in time for Daryl's fist to catch him in the jaw. "Damnit!" he grunted as he hit the floor.

          "Get up!" his brother hissed, his fists clenching and unfurling at his sides.

          Carol groaned as she tried to sit up, but Maggie pushed her back down. "Daryl, stop!" she managed to get out before Marty shoved two pills into her open mouth.

          "Y' coulda died, woman!"

          She swallowed the pills, chasing them with half a bottle of cool water. "But I didn't."

          "How was I supposed t' know y'all would even be here?! Not like they were a loss," he said in his defense. "Bunch o' rapists and murderers the governor took in. Thought they'd make good soldiers. Every time I looked at that bastard, Wayne, all I could think of was him comin' up on Peach unawares. Y' know I couldn't let that stand, little brother."

          Daryl understood the code his brother lived by because he shared it. You don't lay hands on women and children. It's one of the reasons Daryl was so drawn to Carol in the beginning, wanting to be her friend. He could see what she was going through and he'd been determined to help and offer her a way out. It had only been a matter of time before Ed turned his abusive proclivities in his daughter's direction. "What th' hell y' gonna tell your fearless leader?" he asked with a snort.

          Rosita snickered. "Walker's got 'em."

          Merle waved them out of the room with orders to make sure none of the fallen would turn and to dispose of the bodies before turning back to his brother and Rick. "Look, me … my people … we ain't murderers. We don't take joy in killin'. Daryl, y' know me, brother. But if we hadn't, imagine how many they coulda hurt."

          Rick shook his head. "No one's accusing you, Merle. What you did … man, you probably saved this group from slaughter. And they're  _our_ people; you did us a service. Again."

           "Y' got room for more where you're holed up?"

"We'll make room."

 

*.*.*

 

           Carol woke to Marty's light touch on her shoulder, comforted to have a friend near. "Hey," the brash young woman grinned. "Have a nice nap?"

          "How long was I out?" Carol asked, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of her husband and daughter. "Daryl?"

          "Couple hours," Marty said, helping Carol into a sitting position. "Don't worry about Daryl. He's out there helpin' th' others get packed up for th' move. He was hoverin' somethin' awful, an' Merle chased him out so y' could rest. An' Peach is with th' cop's kid cleanin' weapons. We should be ready t' leave soon."

          Carol nodded, happily accepting the navy blue button up Marty had retrieved from her pack along with a clean white tank. "Thanks, Marty … for taking care of me."

          The girl shot her a cheeky grin as she helped her into her shirt. "Wasn't nothin'."

          "Where'd you learn how to do that?"

          Marty shrugged. "Oh, Sugar," she chuckled, "growin' up with my brothers – not t' mention m' daddy – I had t' learn real quick how t' patch 'em up. They didn't like hospitals, an' even if they did, we didn't have insurance t' cover 'em." Her smile was sad, but held so much love for her lost family. "Used t' help Daryl an' Merle, too, when they got into trouble. Fightin' an' brawlin' is second nature t' this lot."

          Carol didn't miss the resigned look in the girl's eyes. "Can I ask you something?"

           "Sure."

"How are you and Merle? It can't be easy living in the enemy camp, so to speak."

          Marty huffed a wry laugh. "I love him, Carol. Didn't even realize how much until we went on th' run together after he got left in Atlanta. I'd follow that man anywhere. Just don't tell 'im that. Don't want him getting' th' big head."

          Carol laughed. "Think it's a bit late for that." She reached out and squeezed Marty's hand. "I'm glad the two of you could find a small measure of happiness."

          "We'll be a lot happier once we can get rid of Blake an' make Woodbury into a place we can be proud of. T' say Merle's gettin' impatient is a gross understatement, an' it scares me because it's eventually gonna make 'im reckless." She shook her head. "I mean … look at this latest stunt he pulled."

          "You ever think of just leaving Woodbury and joining us?" Carol asked, worried for her extended family.

          "Cain't. The governor wouldn't stop 'til he hunted us down. Merle knows too much about his shady dealings. Blake wouldn't want that t' get out. An' we'd never put th' group at risk."

          Daryl cut their conversation short as he strode into the room, crossbow slung across his back. He moved to Carol's side and tilted her chin up, so he could have a good long look at her, but his words were for Marty. "How is she? An' don't bullshit me 'cause I'll know."

          The girl snorted. "Honey, I could tell you clouds were made of cotton candy an' get y' t' believe me. But seriously, Daryl … she's ok. Jus’ gonna take time for her t' heal. That nurse even said so."

          He grunted in approval. "Merle said y'all ain't quite done in this area, so y' better go find out what he's plannin'."

          "Knowin' him, it ain't nothin' good. Prob'ly wants t' see if more o' Blake's men are in th' area an' take 'em out. He don't like th' idea of those bastards anywhere near th' group," she said, sliding her arms into the sleeves of her jacket. She squeezed Carol's hand before she leveled a pointed glare at Daryl. "You take care of her."

          "Same goes for you, Martine. Watch Merle's back."

          Carol watched her go. "You know she will, Daryl."

          "Yeah, I know, but Merle's hardheaded. Cain't always depend on him thinkin' straight." He handed over her jacket – now free of blood thanks to Sophia – and helped her into it.

          She squeaked in surprise as he lifted her into his arms. "Daryl! I can walk, y'know."

          "Pfft," he scoffed. "Y' got yourself shot not five hours ago, woman. Y' ain't walkin' nowhere for a while. Gonna get y' home an' put your ass t' bed so Hershel can have a look at y'."

          Everything was packed up, the new members of their group divided into two pickup trucks along with their meager supplies. Shane was standing at the tailgate of the silver Dodge, waiting for them. Daryl hefted her up onto the bed of the truck and moved to press his back against the cab, pulling her into the vee of his legs so she could rest comfortably against his chest for the ride back to the colonial.

          Shane closed the tailgate and hopped in to join them, yelling for Rick to get them underway. "Get us out of here before any more walkers show up," he called, tired from fighting off the dead which had been drawn from the firefight. He grinned at Carol as Rick pulled out onto the road to lead the small caravan home. "Bet this ain't what you expected when you got up yesterday morning."

          "No, but I'm not complaining," she murmured, burrowing further into her husband. "We're alive, we're together, and today's a brand-new day."

          "Little Miss Optimism," the former deputy chuckled.

          Daryl dropped a kiss to his wife's brow and pulled a blanket up over her to keep her warm, shaking his head at Shane always looking at the bad instead of the good. Carol smiled and watched the scenery fly by, secure in the love of her family and hopeful for what was to come.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Next time: Daryl hovers, a council meeting is called to merge the two groups, and there's talk of finding a bigger place for them all.


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The last section of this chapter is some smutty goodness. You've been warned :D

 

           Lori instinctively reached for the pistol shoved into the back waistband of her jeans as the silver Dodge crept down the long driveway followed by the Hyundai and two pickup trucks she didn't recognize. Had some random strangers followed their group home? Surely, Rick wouldn't be so careless. "Hershel! Randall!" she called, her voice carrying through the open screen door. They heeded her call, stepping out onto the porch carrying rifles, ready to defend should the need arise.

          T-Dog climbed out of the back of the Hyundai and waved them down. "Ain't no need for that, Doc," he drawled, mounting the steps up to the porch. "We … uh … kinda picked up some strays."

          Lori gaped at him. "Are these the same people who were holding Daryl?"

          The big man held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger. Talk to your husband." He grinned at Hershel. "Everything ok here?"

          Hershel nodded as he squinted out into the late morning sunlight where Rick was directing the newcomers. "Just fine, Theodore. I believe Patricia's making venison stew if you're hungry."

          "Yes indeed!" he smacked his lips. "Hope she made plenty."

          "What's this?" Lori asked her husband, stopping next to him as Randall flew past her to help with unloading supplies.

          Rick flinched as he looked down at the thunderclouds brewing in her dark eyes. "Can we do this later? I really need your help getting everyone settled since Carol is out of commission."

          Her eyes widened as she watched Daryl jump down from the tailgate Shane had lowered and scooped his wife up in his arms to carry her inside. "Oh, my god, what happened to her?"

          Carol threw an arm around her husband's neck, clinging to him so she wouldn't fall and grumbling the entire time. "For god's sake, I'm not an invalid, Daryl Dixon! Put me down!"

          "I'll put y' down once I get your ass inside an' Hershel can take a look at y'," he returned, her foul demeanor rubbing off on him.

          "He needs to have a look at you, too. You shouldn't be overtaxing yourself with your injury." She winced with each step he made, her side throbbing. Hopefully, Hershel would give her something for the pain. "Hi, Lori," she greeted her friend as Daryl passed her and climbed the steps to the porch.

          "Rick Grimes, so help me," his wife growled, "if you don't tell me what's going on –"

          "I promise," he cut her off, "later. New members; need to get them settled, ok?" He was running on no sleep and crashing hard, his blood pounding a sick tempo behind his eyes. He wanted to get everyone inside and shown to their rooms before he gathered them all to introduce to his own group. And he was starving.

          "Fine!" she hissed, and then caught herself. "Sorry. I guess I was surprised, is all." She reached up and gave him a quick kiss. "I'm glad you're safe and you didn't lose anyone." Her dark gaze found her son helping to unload supplies along with Randall and Sophia. "But we're having a conversation about taking Carl on any more runs."

          "Yes, dear."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl glared at Shane, a low growl escaping his throat. "This wasn't my fuckin' idea, Walsh," the hunter snarled, referring to Rick’s idea to bring the new group back with them.

          Shane planted his hands on his hips and glared right back, not intimidated by Daryl in the least. "No, it was your wife's … and Rick agreed to it. We all have to compromise."

          "Are y' stupid or somethin'? Seriously? There's enough people now for what we need. Y' don't need Carol up here in th' middle o' this mess tellin’ y’ where everyone needs t’ fuckin’ go, where t’ sleep, when t’ eat … none o’ that shit! FIGURE IT OUT!" Lori's eyes blew wide, the last thing he saw before slamming the door in Shane's face and tromping down the wooden staircase.

          "Martine did some mighty fine work stitching you up, Carol," Hershel said with an approving nod as he pulled her shirt down. He'd checked her wound and found no infection, then affixed a clean bandage to her side. "I suggest you rest for a few days, let yourself heal, and take the antibiotics I've given you. Daryl, that goes for you as well, son."

          Hershel had already checked his wound, but he knew the hunter wouldn't likely heed his advice to rest. "Thanks, Hershel, for lookin' after Carol. Don't know how much rest we're gonna get, though, with all these extra mouths t' feed."

          "Rick wants us to meet upstairs in the den in an hour."

          Carol cast him a tired smile, the pain medication on top of her exhaustion making her sleepy. "Thank you, Hershel. We'll be there."

          Daryl followed him up the stairs to lock the door behind him before returning to Carol's side. He chewed the inside of his lip and fidgeted with the cuticle on his thumb, tossing surreptitious glances at her from beneath his lashes. "Y' sure y' ok?"

          She felt better now she was home and had a clean change of clothes, the yoga pants and loose sweater baggy enough not to aggravate her injury. Carol patted the bed beside her, waiting until he gingerly settled at her side before answering. "I'm fine, Daryl. Please stop worrying."

          He laid his head down on the pillow next to hers. "Yeah, like that'll ever happen. Don't wanna think o' what my life would be without y'. I'm stronger with y' … focused. I know what I need t' do t' protect you an' Soph, an' it jus' don't work without y'."

          Carol reached up and looped her arms around his neck, her fingers toying with the bandage Hershel had wrapped around Daryl's head. For a man who boasted not to be good with words, he knew just what to say to her. "I'm sorry I scared you, Pookie. But you know I'm going to do what I can to protect our people. So will Sophia. I won't be a burden, sitting back and letting everyone else do the hard work. You know that. You can't lock us in a titanium bubble to keep us safe. It's not who we are."

          "I know. Wouldn't want y' t' be any different. Jus' need t' learn t' deal with it, I guess."

          She yawned widely and blinked up at him. "Good, while you're learning to deal with it, could you please hold me? Yesterday was a mess and I guess I'm still feeling it."

Daryl grinned that half-moon smile she loved so much and slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to nestle into his side. "All y' had t' do was ask."

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol couldn't seem to break herself of that sudden quick intake of breath upon waking. It came from years of living with Ed. Those first moments when she was afraid to open her eyes to the new horrors of the day. But now a smile curled her lips, and though still groggy from the pain medicine, she couldn't wait to open her eyes and see that smoky blue gaze she adored to the very depths of her soul. Even now she could feel his intense stare as his fingers toyed with her earlobe and kneaded the sensitive skin behind her jaw. He knew by now she couldn't resist his touch, work-roughened hands heightening her pleasure. "Mmm …"

          "I know you're awake, woman," he growled low in his throat, the sound of his voice evoking emotions only he could make her feel. "How're y' feelin'?"

          She tugged on his collar, dragging him down to meet her lips in a gentle kiss. He pulled away before she could deepen it, arching a brow in askance. She sighed. "I've had better days. I've also had a lot worse," she murmured, remembering days trying to care for her house and family when she could hardly stand.

          "Hey … don't go there. Y' got this …" His fingers trailed over her collarbone and the side of her breast to her side, skimming over the bandage. " … defendin' your family, your new friends. Th' scar left from th' bolt I took lookin' for Sophia; what'd y' call it? A badge o' honor? That's what this is."

          "Really?" she asked skeptically. "I thought you were angry with me."

          "Y' scared th' hell outta me, woman, but that don't mean I ain't proud o' y' for being strong an' fightin' t' defend what's yours," he admitted grudgingly.

          "What's  _ours_ ," she corrected him.

          Daryl nodded and rolled over in the bed to put his boots on. "C'mon," he urged. "We gotta get upstairs. I already put Rick off for an hour. He's not gonna wait much longer, an' he ain't wantin' t' start without us."

          Carol didn't argue with him when he lifted her into the cradle of his arms to carry her upstairs. Her wound pained her, and she hadn't been looking forward to crawling up those wooden stairs. "Since when did we get to be so important?" she grinned cheekily.

          "I dunno. Still tryin' t' figure that one out."

          She brushed the hair back from his eyes. "You don't give yourself enough credit, Pookie."

          "Stop."

          They met Shane in the kitchen. "Hey, I was just coming to get you two. Rick's got everyone else assembled in the den … new people too. He saved y'all a seat." He shot Carol a warm smile. "You alright?"

          "Thanks, Shane. I'm ok. I'll mend," she assured him.

          Carol's brows shot up as Daryl carried her to the sofa. Rick sat there with Lori on his right and an empty seat to his left where her husband deposited her gently. The room was crowded with their group and Tori's. She just hadn't realized how many of them there really were, or how they'd be nearly piled atop one another in the once spacious colonial.

          Lori's gaze was concerned when she met her friend's, but Carol nodded that she was fine. Rick reached out and squeezed her hand. Daryl hunched down next to the sofa at his wife's feet, his gaze quietly observant. There seemed to be a line drawn down the center of the room between the groups, new and old.  _That will have to change_ , Carol thought to herself as her eyes scanned the room.

          Rick slowly rose to his feet and wiped his palms on his pants, taking a deep breath. "I'd like to welcome you all," he addressed the newcomers. "There is strength in numbers, and we are growing. We have to be strong for what we must face each day, and the only way we can do that is to band together, to pool our resources and learn to survive … together."

          Tori nodded gratefully. "Thank you for having us," she said, speaking for the entirety of her group.

          "Now that we've taken the time to get acquainted …" He'd made sure of it in the time Carol and Daryl had been resting. "I think we should go over a few things." He gestured to his wife and Carol settled on either side of where he'd been sitting. "My wife, Lori, and Carol Dixon are in charge of all things domestic. I'm not trying to be sexist, but this is a position they chose. They handle all the scheduling … chores, inventory, lists for the run crews, and any questions you might have, they're the ones to see." He nodded in Shane and Daryl's direction. "Shane Walsh, Daryl Dixon … they are my lieutenants. Security and watch rotation are their areas of expertise. Daryl is also our hunter; anyone who has experience needs to get with him.  Glenn is our 'go to town' guy. He's the best scavenger this side of Atlanta."

          No one seemed to have any questions, but listened attentively to their new leader. Tori was visibly relieved, Carol noted, happy to let someone else be in charge.

          "Now you know our strengths and positions in this group, we'll need a full rundown of how best you'll fit in with us. We're all going to have to compromise and learn from one another." There was hope in the eyes of the newcomers, though mixed with a healthy measure of wariness. It would take time, but he knew they would prevail.

          "What about training, Dad?" Sophia whispered as she came to sit next to him on the floor. "They can shoot ok, but what about hand to hand?"

          The sergeant snorted, having heard her. "Beggin' your pardon, little lady, but my men and I are skilled combat warriors," he said gently, tipping his cover in her direction.

          "But that isn't how we fight here," Carl added. "You know how to fight in a war? We know how to fight against the dead."

          Daryl ducked his head before eyeing Rick. "I can take 'em out tomorrow, see how good they are."

          "Good deal," Rick agreed. "Let's get everyone something to do now. Meeting adjourned."

 

*.*.*

 

          "Alexandra seems to be working out well on dinner shift," Lori commented as she sat with Carol at the kitchen table going over the week's schedules.

          "It's not rocket science, Lori," Carol chuckled. "Though the men seem to be much happier when they have something tasty to fill their bellies. There's not much we can create with the limited supplies we have, so it's nice to have someone who can be a little inventive."

          Lori made a notation in the binder and sat back, her hand absently caressing the small bump which seemed to be growing every day. It had been two weeks since the new group had joined them, and she'd be the first to admit their presence had made things a lot easier in some respects. Granted they were jammed into the colonial like sardines – which Daryl reminded them of daily – but shifts seemed to run more smoothly. Watch shift ran like a well-oiled machine, there were more of them to make necessary runs, and things had been quiet. There was the occasional walker which ambled onto the property, but so far it hadn't been more than the group could handle.

          Sophia beamed at her mother as she entered the kitchen, Carol's leather jacket folded over her arm. "Hi, Mama. You busy?"

          Carol pulled her daughter down to sit next to her. "Not especially. You need something, baby?"

          "No … just thought you might like this back. I … uh … I fixed it," she murmured nervously.

          Carol took it from her and brushed her fingers over the worn leather, taking in the neat stitches her daughter had made. "I was going to do it," she protested. "I just …"

          "You've been busy, Mama, and it's not like Daddy has let you out much lately. I've been working on it while on watch with Carl. It wasn't easy as thick as the leather is, but I managed ok," Sophia trilled proudly.

          "I didn't even know you could sew."

          "Daddy said it's important to know how to do little things like this."

          Lori's brows shot up. "Daryl taught you how to sew? Is there anything that man can't do?"

          Sophia nodded. "We can't depend on Mama to do everything for us."

          Carol smiled, her husband's thoughtfulness never ceasing to amaze her. "I'm surprised you're not out with him. He chase you inside for chores?"

          "No, he's having some kinda pow wow with Rick and Shane, but he wouldn't let me and Carl sit in on it. Figured he'd tell you later and then you can tell us," she smirked.

          Lori ruffled the girl's hair affectionately. "I'm sure they had their reasons, Sophia."

          "But you won't be privy to what they're discussing unless your father says it's ok. No eavesdropping, baby," Carol warned with a stern look.

          "Fine!" the girl bemoaned, hating it when she was left out. She leaned over and dropped a loud smacking kiss to her mother's cheek. "Gotta go, Mama. I promised I'd help Kayla and Tori with the laundry today."

          Carol tapped her pen against the binder, wondering what the men were plotting. She shot her friend a suspicious look. "What say we go find out what our husbands are up to? The run team won't be back for a while yet, so we have time before we have to inventory what they bring in."

          Lori pushed her chair back, a smug smile teasing at her lips. "That sounds like a wonderful idea," she replied.

          Carol eased herself out of her chair, her wound – though nearly healed – still twinging uncomfortably at times. The pair made their way through the large house, already having an idea of where they would find the men who led their group. If they were discussing something important, they wouldn't be where the others could listen in. She followed Lori out to the long driveway where their vehicles were parked facing out towards the road for an easy escape.

          Shane and Rick were perched on the tailgate of Daryl's pickup while the hunter paced anxiously before them. He seemed agitated, and Carol could only think he didn't like whatever it was Rick was suggesting. He paused mid-prowl as he saw her approach. "Woman, you're s'posed t' be restin'," he growled.

          "I'm fine," she insisted as his arm curled around her waist, drawing her into his side. "Lori and I just finished the schedules for this coming week. What are you men doing out here?"

          Rick and Shane both shifted uncomfortably under the weight of Lori's glare. "Nothing," Shane answered, looking away guiltily. He could only be thankful Andrea was on watch – having recovered sufficiently enough to resume her duties – and wasn't there to lend a hand to the interrogation the women were sure to begin shortly.

          "Why don't I believe you?"

          Daryl grunted as Carol poked him sharply in his side. "Rick wants us t' take a run out t' th' prison Merle circled on th' map." He wasn't in the habit of keeping things from his wife. Not when his decisions might mean life or death for his family.

          "The same prison your brother warned us to stay away from?" Lori asked, directing her venomous stare at the hunter. " _That_  prison?"

          "It's just a run to take a look, Lori," Rick said, hopping down from the tailgate to curl his hands over his wife's shoulders in an effort to soothe her ruffled feathers. "We won't be getting too close, and we won't be seen."

          "Why do you want to take a chance?" Carol asked, her worried gaze directed at her own husband. "A trip out there – at least a county away – is going to keep you away for at least three days if the roads are as blocked as they were when we left the farm."

          Shane scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "Things are getting a might crowded, Carol. We're living right on top of each other. What if we find more survivors out there? Where we gonna put them?"

          "The prison might be a better solution," Rick added.

          Lori planted her hands stubbornly on her hips. "Merle said –"

          "That's all m' brother's been doin' … talkin'," Daryl snarled in disgust. "He's got all these big plans for us a safe haven, but he ain't done shit t' make it a reality, an' he won't even let us help him. What if this prison is what we need? I don't like bein' exposed like this with no fences or walls t' keep th' walkers out."

          "I don't like this, Rick," Lori grumbled. "What if the governor's men are watching it, and just waiting to report that you three are sniffing around? What then?"

          Shane shook his head. "You really think Daryl can't get us close enough without being seen? C'mon now."

          Carol shot him a pointed look. "That was never in question, Shane, and you know it. Daryl has more than proven his skills."

          "There are more than enough of us now to go in and clear it. We just need to see for ourselves if this is a good place for us. At least until Merle Dixon can come through on Woodbury."

          Lori glared at her husband, feeling helpless to change his mind. "Well, the three of you haven't led us wrong … yet," she admitted grudgingly.

          Carol studied her husband's stoic features, seeing he'd already made up his mind to follow Rick on this mission. She wasn't going to try to change his mind. "How many of you are going?"

          "Five," he answered, his fingers pressing into her uninjured side. "Me, Rick, Shane … you an' Soph. We'll take th' Hyundai an' slip in nice an' quiet like."

          "What?" Shane glowered at him. "You want to take them into unknown territory? That's crazy, Dixon! Carol's not even completely healed from -"

          "Let it go, Shane," Rick warned.

          "Ain't leavin' 'em for that long, Walsh. They go, or I stay. Take your pick," Daryl smirked. He was well aware the others wouldn't feel comfortable about going into unknown territory without him to guide them. Even injured, his wife was a better shot than the former deputy, and he trusted her to have his back.

          Carol sighed, relieved she wasn't going to be left behind to worry over his safety. "I'll go pack a bag. When are we leaving?"

          Rick looked at the others, confident it would be an easy run. "First thing in the morning."

 

*.*.*

 

          It was late in the evening when Carol slipped into the shower with her husband, her arms curling around his torso as she rested her cheek against his shoulder. She could feel his sharp intake of breath and the stiffening of well-worn muscle beneath her hands.

          "Where's Soph?" he grunted, lowering his head under the spray. It had been a long day, and she knew he was ready for it to be over, to claim his reward of sleep in her arms. "She settled in for th' night?"

          Her lips ghosted over the demon tattoos on his right shoulder blade as her fingers trailed over his abs, slowly drifting lower. "She's bunking with Beth tonight. Something about board games and girl talk. Poor Carl's feeling left out, I'm afraid."

          He could just imagine the boy was down after his mother had refused to allow him to go on the prison run. Daryl caught her hand just as her fingers wrapped around his cock. "Carol … y' gotta stop. Hershel ain't cleared y' yet."

          His breath came in uneven pants, his heart thundering. Carol smiled. "Don't you want me, Pookie?" she whispered teasingly against the shell of his ear. "It's been so long."

          Daryl braced his free hand against the cool tiles of the shower stall to maintain his balance as his wife continued to roam his body with her soft touch. He shivered despite the hot water cascading over them. "Y' know it ain't like that, woman," he moaned, feeling lightheaded as all the blood in his body rushed south. "But I ain't gonna risk hurtin' y' either."

          Carol bit her lip seductively as she slipped around in front of him. "Look … Hershel removed my stiches this morning. He's quite pleased with my recovery so far, and he thinks I'm well enough to resume my normal activities. No restrictions," she purred, pulling him down into a searing kiss.

          God, how she'd missed being able to touch him like this. He'd been treating her as if she were a piece of spun glass, and she was tired of it. She wanted him back, his rough hands on her flesh, driving her to that place only he could bring her. Even now she could feel his restraint as he reached out to brush the pad of his thumb over the shiny pink scar.

          His lips quirked up into that half-moon grin she adored. "We match."

          "Quite fitting, don't you think?" she breathed. It was all she could manage as his hands curved over the swell of her heart-shaped ass.

          Daryl searched her face for any sign of pain. "Y' sure about this? That we can –"

          "I'm sure. I need you."

          That was all he needed to hear, never having been very good at denying her anything she wanted. He cut the water, not wanting to waste when so many others depended on it for their own needs, and reached for a towel, hurriedly drying them off before his mouth was back on hers. He backed her out of their small bathroom and across the room to where their bed had never looked more inviting. "Y' locked the door when y' came down?"

          Carol nodded, pulling him down with her as she crawled backwards onto the center of the bed. "No one is going to disturb us tonight … I promise."

          She took advantage of his loss of balance, pushing him down onto his back and crawling over him, his skin still damp, a few water droplets clinging to the sparse hairs on his chest. She ducked her head, her lips closing over one flat nipple, her teeth dragging over it until it pebbled. A smug smile teased at her lips as he arched beneath her and moaned out his approval. "I missed you, Daryl," she cooed, treating the other to the same exquisite attention.

          His rough hands cradled her face, the pads of his thumbs ghosting over her cheekbones with the lightest of caresses. "Missed you too," he panted, his gaze drifting to her lips before pulling her down to him for a kiss. "I love you, Carol."

          She would never tire of hearing those three hallowed words pass his lips, knowing how difficult it had been for him to confess for the first time. And now, each time, the way they formed on his tongue, the whisper of sound so reverent and profound as they slipped past his lips, and how her heart stuttered with joy … nothing was more precious. "I love you, too," she murmured against his warm flesh, trailing her lips in a gentle exploration of his body she already knew so well.

          Daryl's hand squeezed gently at her shoulders, trying to urge her to come back up so he could kiss her again, but she shrugged him off. She nipped softly at the tender skin below his bellybutton, and the air hissed passed his teeth. "Stop playin' with me, woman!"

          Carol giggled and ventured lower as she wrapped her fingers around the base of his erection. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and desire, her other hand cupping his balls, pressing them close to his body. "Ah, but I've missed playing with you, Pookie."

          "So, you're tryin' your damnedest t' put me in an early grave, s'at it?" he moaned through clenched teeth as he gaped down at her. She shrugged and gave his tumescent cock a long lick with the flat of her tongue. She was pretty sure he stopped breathing at that point. "Fuckin' Christ, woman! Y' ain't … don't have t' … ungh!"

          He gave up his protests and she took him fully into her mouth, the tip pressing into the back of her throat as she held him there for a long moment. She'd never considered herself skilled with anything pertaining to sex, but it was the one thing Ed had never found complaint with. She'd never liked doing it for her former husband for the simple fact he enjoyed it so much. But then, any form of sex with Ed had made her feel dirty and cheap. Not so with Daryl. The flush of pleasure on his face made her feel proud to know she was making him lose his formidable control.

          Carol lost herself in her task, feeling the intense heat radiating from her core as she continued to lap and suck at him. How many times had he used his mouth to bring her to the brink of madness before finally granting the release she craved? It was only fair she could return the favor. She gave his balls a gentle squeeze as she swirled her tongue around his tip and he howled, drawing ever closer to his peak. She hadn't considered his desperation, however.

          Daryl grasped her arms and pulled. She gave a little shriek as she found herself dragged along his body, his mouth hungrily slanting over hers. He flipped her onto her back, lips, teeth and tongue raking over her flesh, marking her, claiming her as his own, his arousal sliding sinuously against her sodden core. Carol moaned, her hips rising to meet him. Yet as mindless as he was in his passion, those smoky blue eyes still sought hers for permission. "Now, Daryl," she gasped, "Please."

          And the world fell away as he filled her. Walkers, worries or the world going to hell … nothing mattered in that moment but the man in her arms. The man who had saved her over and over again. The man who had taught her how to love again with his sweet words and tenderness. He set a gentle pace, savoring every thrust, every kiss, every touch as he fought to hold on, her pleasure tantamount. She lost herself in him to be reborn in his love, holding his gaze as he brought her to the precipice, stealing her breath and pushing her over.

          He followed soon after, burying his face against her throat as he fought for breath, whispering nonsensical words of praise against the whorls of her ear. She didn't know what the morrow would bring, but for that one perfect moment, all was right with the world.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: When unsure of how to end a chapter … write smut :D hahaha! So, they're slated to go check out the prison. I'm so looking forward to it. But you know things aren't going to be easy for them. When is it ever? Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Next time: The run crew encounters a stowaway, Carol has some valid concerns, and Sophia runs headlong into a Woodbury scout.


	55. Chapter 55

 

          Rick tapped his fingers idly against the steering wheel as he drove down the little-known back road Daryl had found. It would take them around most of the traffic snarls on the highway and past what used to be moderately populated towns which might give them problems. Daryl sat at his side, his eyes scanning the sides of the road. Carol and Shane had taken the backseat, Sophia wedged between them dozing lightly. They'd only been on the road for a little over two hours.

          The sun was just making its way over the trees now. He'd thought it better to leave before Lori roused herself from sleep to avoid an argument. He doubted she'd ever feel comfortable with him leaving on a run, but it couldn't be avoided. He was their leader. It wouldn't be fair to send out members of the group to put their lives at risk if he weren't willing to do the same. At least things were better between them, he mused.

          "Carl talk t' y' before y' left out this mornin'?" Daryl asked quietly, not wanting to disturb Sophia. He knew she'd been up late with Beth.

          "No," Rick shook his head. "He was still upset with me and his mom when he went to bed last night. Locked himself in the attic, if you can believe it."

          Daryl chewed thoughtfully at his lip, glad he and Sophia didn't have the same problems Rick had with his son. He didn't want to think of Sophia going to bed angry with him. She was his little girl now, and he expected her to come to him when she had something on her mind whether or not he was equipped to deal with the problem or not. Carol would come to his rescue if he couldn't.

          "Crap!" Rick slammed his hand down on the wheel, his foot landing heavily on the brake as they came over a rise to find the road blocked by at least a half a dozen cars.

          Shane stuck his head between the front seats and sighed. "Don't look too bad. We should be able to clear it."

          Daryl's gaze shifted to the tree line on either side of the road. The drainage ditches were too deep and the shoulder too soft for them to go around. "Gonna take time, but it ain't like we got a choice."

          "This is going to put us behind."

          An audible sneeze from the storage area all the way to the back of the small SUV had everyone swinging around in their seats. Everyone but Sophia. Shane reached behind the seat and whipped back the blanket covering their supplies. "Carl Grimes!"

          Carol looked down at the boy as he grinned and gave a little wave before sitting up. "Hi."

          Sophia still hadn't said a word, and Daryl speared her with his sharp gaze, noticing the blush riding high in her cheeks. He reached back and goosed her in the ribs, causing her to jerk upright against her mother. "And I suppose you ain't had nothin' t' do with him being here, right, Soph?"

          Carol groaned as she took in her daughter's guilty expression. "Of course, she did."

          Carl plopped his Stetson firmly on his head and crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest. "Don't blame Sophia. It's not her fault. It was all my idea," he quickly came to her defense.

          "How is coming out here and putting yourself in danger –"

          The boy glared at his father. "You have Shane, Dad. Daryl's got Carol. Sophia needed me! She's my partner; she needs me to watch her back. I couldn't let her come out here without me."

          Shane gaped at him, still unable to believe the boy's reasoning. "So, what … you just decided to stow away until we were far enough away and couldn't take you back?"

          "That's exactly what he did," Daryl growled disapprovingly. He shared a knowing look with his wife, not sure if he wanted to applaud the kid for wanting to protect Sophia, or shoot him for moving in on her like she was his own personal property. Next thing he knew, he'd be catching them in a compromising position. Over his dead body!

          "This is not how this works, Carl," Rick hissed angrily. "When I give you a direct order, I expect you to obey me. I am your father first, but I'm also part of the leadership of this group. I'm not trying to be an asshole when I give you an order –"

          "No," Carl snarked, "you're trying to coddle me like Mom does. I'm not a baby!"

          "Then stop actin' like one!" Daryl chided. "We don't know what we're gonna find out here at th' prison. Rick's tryin' t' protect y', boy!"

          "I'm sorry, Daddy," Sophia apologized, hating that she was partly responsible for everyone's upset.

          Carol pinched the bridge of her nose. "This arguing is getting us nowhere. He's here with us, and there's nothing we can do to change that right now." She nodded out the front window. "We've got work to do, and now we have an extra pair of hands."

          "She's right," Rick agreed. His eyes narrowed on his son. "But when we get back, your ass is so grounded."

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol's unease grew as she walked the perimeter with the children. They walked in a counter-clockwise direction, spaced evenly apart, silently keeping watch as the men worked to move the vehicles from the road. They'd picked over the meager contents of the cars, but had found little to nothing. It was odd. From previous experience, when they'd come upon raided vehicles, those who had done the raiding would usually toss items haphazardly about. There would be paper and sundry items littering the road. She glanced down at the dark pavement. Nothing, not even a scrap of paper.

          She startled from her thoughts as Daryl gripped her elbow. "Hey. We should be able t' get through after we move that one," he nodded towards an older model Ford. "Y' ok? What's got y' so jumpy, woman?"

          Carol shook her head slowly. "How far are we from Woodbury?"

          "I dunno … maybe thirty miles if I were t' take a guess."

          She bit her lip anxiously, her gaze taking in the abandoned vehicles and how they'd been littered over the roadway. "Do you think the governor could have staged this?" she queried, waving a hand at the cars.

          Daryl's sharp gaze immediately swept the area, searching for danger. "What makes y' think that?" he asked, knowing better than to disregard one of her ideas. She had an uncanny ability to pick up on things others might have missed.

          "There was no debris on the road, no walkers trapped in the cars, no supplies worth taking. And if you look at the vehicles themselves, there's no damage to them. There wasn't an accident here," she explained, keeping her voice low so as not to alarm the children. "Or am I just paranoid?"

          "Naw," he grumbled, "y' ain't paranoid an' y' ain't jus' imaginin' things. You're observant, Carol. Y' see shit th' rest o' us miss sometimes."

          Her head tilted to the side as she studied his tense posture. He was feeling it now too. "But why, Daryl? Why  _this_  road?"

          "Dunno," he said. "He could jus' be blockin' accessible routes t' Woodbury or th' prison. From what Merle says, th' man's crazy. An' that's a dangerous combination considerin' his greed."

          "What are we going to do?"

          The Ford gave a rusty groan as Rick and Shane pushed it into the ditch before rounding up the kids to pile back into the Hyundai. "Keep goin' … all we can do right now, I guess. But we'll take an alternate route on th' way back jus' t' be on the safe side."

 

*.*.*

 

          They didn't encounter any more road blockages on the last leg of the journey to the prison, but Carol's worries plagued Daryl the more he thought about it. He wouldn't put it past Blake to form blockades leading into Woodbury. But why hadn't Merle mentioned anything about it? He hadn't seen his brother since the disaster at the spa, but he'd have to wait for him to show up again to have his questions answered. Daryl couldn't just show up at Woodbury and ask to see Merle, and telephones were a thing of the past. Damn, he hated waiting, especially when he had so many counting on him to keep them safe.

          He pulled the Hyundai off the road and into the trees as they neared the prison, cutting the engine and stowing the keys beneath the driver's seat. Carol laid her hand over his where it rested on the gearshift, her eyes searching his as he met her gaze. The hunter didn't like having his family out there so exposed, but he'd been outvoted. The colonial was getting too cramped. They needed space to spread out. He gave his wife a reassuring nod and reached back to slap Rick on the leg to wake him from his doze. The kids were already waiting patiently to be let out of the car, eager to stretch their legs from the long ride.

          "How far, Dixon?" Shane asked as he got out and propped the Mossberg against his shoulder.

          Daryl's eyes squinted against the late afternoon sunlight. "'Bout a mile east. In case our old pal, Blake, has scouts keepin' an eye out, I didn't think It'd be a good idea t' jus' drive on up t' th' gate."

          Rick stretched and then went around the back to let the kids out of the hatch. The boy didn't spare a glance at his father, hurrying to Daryl's side. Their leader frowned at the brush off from his son, but knew he didn't have time for a chat with the boy when they had a job to do. It hurt regardless, however. Sophia smiled apologetically before she, too, went to her father for instructions.

          "I think we should stick together until we can get a look at this place," Rick said, pulling a rifle from the back of the SUV and strapping it onto his back.

          "We don't have too much daylight left," Carol added, glancing at the shadows already forming around them.

          "Got enough for a quick look. If we have t', we can hole up somewhere for th' night an' come back tomorrow. We passed a couple neighborhoods on th' way in."

          With everyone in agreement, they set off through the woods at a brisk pace. They encountered a half dozen or so walkers during their trek, but those were easily handled. Daryl was pleased to see the kids were focused and on point, their aim – whether by bow or knife – had improved greatly. The four of them were virtually silent as they closed the distance between themselves and the prison. However, you could hear Rick and Shane's heavy tread loud and clear. It seemed if there was a twig or patch of dry leaves anywhere on the forest floor, those two were going to find it. Daryl made a mental note to bring the two hunting with him to teach them a lesson on how to move lightly.

          As they neared the edge of the tree line, and the prison came into view, Sophia knelt next to her father and rummaged through her pack for a pair of field glasses. She passed them to Daryl before grabbing her canteen and taking a long drink. Carol and Shane covered them as Rick and Daryl surveyed their new prospective home, though she knew better than to wander too far.

          Rick watched the walkers roam the outer yard behind the fences through the scope on his rifle, a slow grin curving his lips. "Most of them look to be prisoners and guards."

          "Pretty isolated out here. They must not've had a chance t' get out when it all started," Daryl said, glancing down at Carl and Sophia where they sat resting at his feet. "Whatcha think, Soph?"

          The girl glanced up at him, surprised he'd want her opinion. "I don't know, Dad. It has potential if we could clear out all the walkers." She pointed up at the guard towers with interest. "Those towers would be perfect for watch. We'd see anything coming long before it got close enough to be a threat."

          Carl dug idly in the dirt with his knife as his gaze focused on the great stone edifice. "There's plenty of us now since taking on the new group. We could take this place," he said solemnly.

          Daryl nodded approvingly. "Rick?"

          "We should do a search of the perimeter … see what we're really dealing with. Check for breaches. It's not going to do a bit of good to take the front only to have a herd creeping in the back."

          "A'right, let's do this." Daryl handed the field glasses back to his daughter and whistled for Carol. "Y' see anythin', woman?"

          She shook her head. "No, it's quiet … eerily so."

          "So, what's the plan?" Shane asked. "We gonna check this place out?"

          Rick strapped the rifle on his back and regarded his group. "We sweep the perimeter, get a feel for it. Two groups of three. Daryl, Carol and Sophia … you take right. Shane, Carl and I will take left. We'll meet up behind the prison. Check for any breaches. We're not going to bring our people back here and have them walking into a slaughter." Carl opened his mouth to protest, angry to be separated from Sophia, but Rick grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pointed him in the direction they'd take.

          Daryl took point, but Sophia was quick to fall into step with his longer stride. "Daddy? Are you mad at me?" she asked, her little mouth pinched with worry.

          "Do I have a reason?" He arched a brow in her direction.

          She stared down at her feet, keeping an eye on where she was going. "I helped Carl stow away so he could come with us. I know I shouldn't have done it, but … It wasn't fair for him to be left behind."

          Daryl shifted the weight of his bow on his right arm and glanced back to make sure Carol was still following close to his heels. "Life ain't always fair, baby girl. Y' know his mama is gonna have a fit when she finds him gone."

          "He left a note."

          He snorted. "Like that's gonna make her feel any better. I know y' don't agree with th' way Lori and Rick treat your friend, but Carl is  _their_ kid. He ain't always gonna like their decisions, but he's got t' obey them. They're only tryin' t' look out for him, just like me an' your mama are tryin' t' do right by you."

          Sophia chewed that one over silently, her eyes sweeping over the fences they followed. "Would you have stayed behind … if you were Carl? And mama had gotten to go?"

          "Hell no!" He chewed the inside of his lip when he realized his mistake. Double standards. "But I ain't Carl and your mama ain't you, Soph. Look, I get it a'right. Carl don't want t' be left behind. You're his partner. Y'all fight best together an' he wants t' keep y' safe. Still don't make it right that he disobeyed his daddy."

          Daryl paused mid-step, pushing Sophia behind him as he let a bolt loose to take down a walker which had ambled into their path. He did a quick sweep to make sure there were no more before he allowed her to retrieve the arrow.

          "Daddy, just so you know … if you had told me to stay behind, I would have."

          A puzzled smile quirked the corner of his mouth for his precious daughter, watching her sprint ahead a few yards. He'd never thought he'd be a parent, but apparently, he was doing something right. His role models hadn't been the best during his childhood, but at least he knew how  _not_  to act. Daryl would be loving where his own father had been neglectful and abusive, he'd be supportive instead of trying to tear down what self-esteem she possessed. He'd never give her reason to fear him, never cause her to hate him.

          Carol slipped her warm hand into his left, giving it a gentle squeeze. She didn't have to say anything, didn't feel the need to fill the silence with aimless chatter. With just that light touch, she voiced everything she didn't say. He was a good father, loving husband, a strong protector from the evils of the world. She made him feel like a man. His Carol wiped away the pain he carried inside, the pain he had carried for far too long.

          Sophia whistled, pointing to the large oak at the edge of the tree line. He gave a quick nod, communicating with her without the need for words. She wanted to climb, to gain a better vantage point to see what would meet them at the rear of the prison. Carol tensed at his side, but she trusted him to keep an eye on their girl as they continued their brisk pace. A soft  _phish_  of the silencer on her .45 was the only sound to break the eerie stillness as another walker shuffled out of the trees. She hadn't even flinched, testament to her training. What had the world come to that this was what they could expect from everyday life?

          The hunter's ears pricked, footsteps too heavy to be that of a walker, a grunt, and the blood chilled in his veins. He raised his bow as Carol lifted her pistol to take aim. Sophia's bow landed with a thud against the tall grass as an arm moved roughly about her waist, her small body pulled back against a burly chest.

          "Now, what d'we 'ave here," the man growled lowly in the girl's ear. "Where'd y' come from, little girl?"

          She didn't scream, despite the abject terror coursing through her, knowing if she did it would bring more trouble. "Best let me go, mister, before you bite off more than you can chew," she spat, struggling, her arms trapped at her sides. She needed to get her hands on her knife, already memories of being in the same predicament with Ed that night at the quarry running through her frightened mind. She could hear her parents thundering through the grass, their feet pounding over dead leaves as they hurried to her rescue. They'd let no harm come to her.

          Daryl's eyes settled on the man with icy menace, his finger curled around the trigger on the crossbow. "Take your hands off m' daughter, asshole," he growled lowly, his entire frame trembling with rage.

          "Naw, gets lonely out here all by m'self. Think I'll keep her," he said, leveling the 9mm at Daryl.

          Sophia clamped her lips shut, refusing to show weakness as a whimper threatened to make its way from her throat. More footsteps could be heard closing the distance, and she was relieved to see Rick and Shane round the bend around the prison, their weapons drawn.

"Let 'er go an' I'll make it quick," Daryl snarled, his lip curling back over his teeth.

          "Take the shot!" Sophia cried as the beefy arm tightened around her, big blue eyes pleading with her mother first, and then her father. They were both excellent marksmen. It would be easy. Yet, she knew they wouldn't fire as long as she was in danger. When she could get no response from either of them, she focused her gaze on the two former deputies. Shane wouldn't be able to hit him without taking a chunk out of her as well, and she knew Rick wouldn't try and face Daryl's wrath even though he had the python leveled at the man's head. And where the hell was Carl? Her chest tightened with the need to breathe, hysteria building as she thought of her friend.

          The man took a hesitant step back, his gun swinging between the four adults with their weapons trained on him. "Nice an' easy, I'm just gonna back away. Ain't no need to 'ave a firefight over one lil' gurl."

          "Daryl," Carol whispered fearfully at his side.

          "Easy, woman. He ain't goin' nowhere with her," he assured her.

          As he took another step back, the four of them advanced, just waiting for an opening, waiting for the bastard to make a mistake. Sophia watched Rick's eyes widen, watched him shake his head, the only warning before she felt the man shudder against her. His arm fell slack and she was free, dropping to her knees upon the cold ground. She rolled away, not an easy feat with her pack dangling from one arm. She stared at the man who'd tried to take her, her lips parting on a gasp to see a very familiar red-handled hunting knife protruding from the back of his skull.

          Daryl slung the crossbow onto his back and dropped to his knees beside her, pulling her into his arms. "Y' a'right, Soph?" he asked as Carol's hands fluttered over Sophia, checking for injury, tears glistening in her azure eyes. But the girl only had eyes for Carl.

          The boy was having his own problems as Rick knelt before his son and gripped his shoulders. "Carl! I told you to stay behind," he scolded. "You just … you just killed a  _man_. Not a walker, but a  _man._ "

          Shane swiped a hand over his pale face and stalked several yards away, keeping watch out for walkers or other threats while they dealt with the kids.

          Carl stared coldly at his father through narrowed eyes. "I couldn't let him take Sophia, Dad. Y'all were just standing around and he was just inching back towards the woods. She's my best friend. I ain't losing no one else! Especially not her!" He brushed angrily at the tears smarting at his eyes. "Daryl wouldn't have let him get away. He was as good as dead. I just got to him first."

          Rick sighed and pulled his son into his arms. "I know, son. You saved her. I just … I hate that you had to be the one …" He cradled the boy's cheek in his rough hand. "You're growing up so fast, having to make hard choices."

          "We all have to make hard choices to protect the people we love. The living … now … is worse than the dead." He pushed himself away from Rick as Sophia climbed to her feet. He retrieved her bow from the ground and moved to her side, holding it out to her.

          Sophia threw her arms around him. "Thank you," she whispered as his arms wrapped tentatively around her waist. "Thank you for saving me."

          He patted her back awkwardly, feeling the weight of Daryl's narrowed stare on him. "Always, Soph. I'll always have your back."

          "A'right, we're losing daylight. We need t' start back," the hunter growled, his emotions still in a coil at how close he'd come to losing his daughter. He wanted to get her somewhere safe where Carol could check her over properly. He nodded at Rick. "What'd y' see at th' back of th' prison?"

          Rick huffed out a huge breath and squinted off into the distance. "Looks like a bomb went off back there. The fence is down and there are more walkers filing into the gap, but it's nothing we can't fix."

          Shane took point, glancing at the small group behind him. "So … we're seriously considering this as our new home?"

          "Looks that way. We just need to get everyone on board."

 

*.*.*

 

          Shane's driving left a lot to be desired as they sped down the highway back towards Griffin. The deputy was already irritated with Daryl because of the detours he'd suggested. The hunter didn't want to take the same route after his little chat with Carol about whether or not the road blockages had been staged. Another sharp turn, and Daryl didn't know how much more his stomach would be able to take. He never should have volunteered to take the back seat with Carol and Sophia, but the girl had wanted both of her parents close after the scare she'd been through. He wrapped an arm around her legs to keep her from sliding off the seat, her head nestled in her mother's lap.

          The man whipped the Hyundai into a modest neighborhood, a few of the houses more than acceptable with their fenced in yards. He pulled into the first one he came to and Rick jumped out to open the gate, so Shane could drive into the garage. No use in advertising. After a quick sweep of the house – only two walkers, most likely the previous owners – they'd declared it clear for Carol and the children.

          "Go on an' get them settled. We're gonna check out th' rest of th' neighborhood t' make sure we ain't got a problem on our hands," he said to his wife before leaving with the others.

          Carol took supplies from the car – some canned stew and macaroni and cheese – and had them a decent meal prepared over their camp stove by the time the men returned. Daryl dug in with gusto, not having eaten anything but canned peaches and oatmeal for breakfast that morning. When he was done, he tucked Sophia in before taking his wife to the side.

          "She ok?" he asked worriedly, his gaze scrutinizing.

          She offered him a wan smile. "She will be."

          "An' you? How y' holdin' up?"

          Carol let him draw her into his arms, relishing the strength of his warm embrace. A soft sob tore from her throat as she buried her face in his neck. "I've never been so scared in my life, Daryl. We could have lost her today."

          He brushed a soothing hand over her short silver locks. "Ain't gonna let nothin' happen t' our girl. I wasn't gonna let that asshole get far with her."

          "Do you think he was one of Blake's scouts?"

          "Prob'ly. He'll send somebody lookin' for 'im, an' we'll deal with him, too. Gonna have t' talk t' Merle about what else we can expect once we get out there."

          Carol sighed and lifted her head to meet his gaze. "This is a dangerous game your brother's playing."

          Daryl snorted. "Ain't th' first time. Merle thrives on drama." He brushed his lips to hers. "Get some rest. I'ma take watch with Carl."

          "I doubt I'll be able to sleep," she lamented.

          "I'll be back in four hours. Watch over our girl, baby." He kissed her again, grabbed up his crossbow and left her upstairs in the bedroom she'd chosen for them. It was no secret she didn't sleep well without him, but there was no help for it.

          Carl was waiting for him on the roof, the best vantage point they'd found to keep an eye on both the front and back yards. It also allowed them to see much of the solitary street where the house was located. Yet, the boy didn't exhibit his usual exuberance, eyeing his mentor with only a nod. Daryl sat down beside him, balancing the crossbow on his lap.

          "Y' a'right, kid?"

          Carl nodded, keeping his gaze on the street below. Daryl didn't push. He knew the boy would speak when he was ready. "Daryl … do you think Sophia's going to be ok?"

          He’d known it wouldn't take him long. It didn't even surprise him that Sophia was the first thing on his mind. "I think so. She's a tough kid, like her mama." He made his voice as non-threatening as possible, sensing the boy's nervousness. "Y' did good today. Y' stepped up. I'm proud of y'."

          "Really?"

          Daryl bit back a snort at the awe in Carl's voice. "Yeah really. Y' had a shot where no one else did. If we'd have fired, there was ev'ry chance we mighta hit Sophia. Y' were stealthy, used y' head, an' saved her. Not many grown men woulda taken th' risk y' did today. So, yeah … I'm proud of y'."

          And just as quickly as his face had lit up with pride, it fell into a dark frown. "My dad isn't too happy with me right now because I killed that man."

          "Naw, I don't suppose he would be," Daryl murmured with a shake of his head, his hair falling over his eyes. "Y' need t' ease up on him, though, kid. He's got a lot on 'im right now, tryin' t' lead this group, tryin' to be a good husband t' your mom, tryin' t' be a good dad t' you."

          Carl rolled his eyes. "Him and Mom treat me like I'm in preschool, Daryl. You can't see the things I've seen and still be a kid. It doesn't matter how much they may want me to be. I bet when you were twelve, you didn't have your parents coddling you."

          "Boy, I wouldn't wish m' childhood on m' worst enemy," he said bitterly, unable to quell the memories of his father which rose up to haunt him. "Th' only good came out of it was learnin' how t' survive an' fend for m'self in the worst circumstances. 'S why I'm tryin' so hard t' teach you an' Soph. Y' have people who care 'bout y', who will stick their necks out t' make sure y' safe, but y' need t' know how t' take care of yourself first. Your dad is fightin' for y', kid. Don't push 'im away. Y' keep up with this attitude o' yours, an' maybe he won't want y' t' train with me anymore. Did y' think about that? Or maybe he won't let y' partner up with Sophia."

          That would be worse than being tossed into the middle of a herd, in his opinion, and he gaped at the hunter. "He wouldn't!"

          "He might. I ain't tryin' t' drive a wedge between y' an' your dad. I'm jus' tryin' t' help. But it's up t' you t' make him see he ain't lost y'. Talk t' 'im, kid. Make 'im understand how y' feelin'." He couldn't believe he was giving advice on feelings when he had such a difficult time himself talking about his own. He blamed Carol. She influenced every part of his life, including this one. If it helped the boy and his father, however; it was worth it.

          Carl pondered those words and took them to heart. "Daryl … do you think maybe you could switch with him, so Dad could take watch with me?"

          "I wouldn't mind, I s'pose," he said, shouldering his crossbow to go inside and fetch the boy's father.

          "And Daryl?"

          The archer turned to glance over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

          "Thanks."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Carl and Rick need to work out their issues … for real. I can understand Rick feels some jealousy towards Daryl, though. I tried not to make what happened to Sophia too triggery. Should I have put a warning at the beginning of the chapter? These things are confusing to me at times. When I write a fic or a new chapter, I get so immersed in telling the story, I don't think how it might negatively affect my readers sometimes. My sincerest apologies if I've offended anyone. Comment/Review and let me know what you thought. Next time: Rick deals with Lori's upset, the kids are assigned a new job … together, and the council votes.


	56. Chapter 56

 

          Daryl pressed a kiss to Carol's brow as they pulled down the long drive to the colonial. Even after he'd joined her in bed the previous night, she'd done little more than toss and turn. Thankfully, Sophia had been able to sleep. Carol had finally given up in her fight against slumber when they'd hit the road and the gentle swaying of the car had lulled her to sleep. She'd rest better in their own bed – for however long that would be. Rick was anxious to call the council together and decide when would be best to make the move. The prison was going to take a lot of work, and they needed to make sure everyone was on board for the monumental task.

          He squinted out the windshield, happy to see Glenn and Maggie hadn't been idle while they'd been gone. They were working diligently with several members of the new group on weapons training. Lori and Tori were sitting on the front steps, encouraging those fighting, their own cheering squad, but the willowy brunette's demeanor changed when she spotted the car pulling up the gravel drive. She sprinted towards them, her hands planted on her slim hips, tight lines of worry creasing the corners of her mouth. The progress Carl and Rick had made in their relationship during the trip was about to be shot all to hell by the boy's mother.

          Rick hopped out before the car had even come to a full stop, jarring its passengers, his hands settling gently on his wife's shoulders. "He's fine. Lori, he's ok. Breathe."

          Her face flushed with anger as she smacked him in the center of his chest. "How could you take him on that run when we'd already decided –  _together_  – that he'd stay here with me!? Why!?"

          Daryl nudged Carol awake so she wouldn't miss the drama happening just outside their window as Carl leaned over the back seat for a better view. "Boy, y' best get your ass out there an' let y' mama see with her own eyes y' ok."

          Carl shared a worried look with his mentor. "I think I'd rather have you shoot me in the ass with your crossbow."

          Sophia snickered. "Time to face the music. You can run, but you can't hide. Mamas have a way of ferreting us out sooner or later," she mumbled sagely, grinning at Carol when her mother ruffled her blonde locks. She sobered, contrite for causing the worry to crease his brow. "It's not going to be that bad, Carl. You were able to talk with your dad last night and it worked out. Your mom, she'll understand … as soon as she's done being mad."

          "Yeah," he grumbled, "when I'm fifty."

          "Baby, I'm telling you, I didn't bring him along behind your back," Rick said, his tone soft and placating.

          “Don’t patronize me, Richard Grimes!” she screeched furiously.

          "He stowed away in the back. None of us knew until we were halfway to the prison. We would've wasted too many resources bringing him back."

          Carl waited until Sophia climbed out of the Hyundai before slipping out behind her. He squared his shoulders and moved to stand beside his father. "Hi, Mom."

          Lori stared at him long and hard, her sharp eyes searching for any injury before yanking him into her arms. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? Any idea what I went through when we couldn't find you?!"

          "I left a note," he muttered lamely.

          "Carl! 'Mom, Gone with Dad. Be back in a few days. Love, Carl' didn't go very far to relieve my anxiety!"

          "I'm sorry I worried you," he mumbled, shuffling his feet. "I just … I couldn't let Sophia go without me."

          The girl took a step to the left, hiding behind her father as the woman's sharp gaze pierced her. "You went because of Sophia?! Carl, I know she's your best friend –"

          "Mom, it's more than that!" he cried, trying to get through her anger and make her listen to him. "She's my partner. We work  _together_. If she was going, it didn't make sense for me not to go with her." He shoved her hands away from his shoulders and backed up a step, colliding with his father's chest. "You're so scared something is going to happen to me, you won't let me breathe. I'm not a baby anymore, Mom! If I leave with Dad or Daryl or even Shane, I'm safe. They'd die before they let anything bad happen to me or Sophia. And this time she really needed me."

          He could see it was pointless from the look on his mother's face. His face twisting in disgust, he wrapped his hand around the strap of the pack on his shoulder and ran for the porch. "Carl!" Sophia called after him, shooting an apologetic look at Lori. "Hey, Carl, wait up!"

          Lori shook her head, hating the animosity which had been growing between herself and her child. "What happened out there?" she murmured quietly. "Are you sure he's ok?"

          Daryl shifted uncomfortably on his feet, even the hand Carol rested on his back bringing him little comfort. "There was a man – one o' Blake's, we think – in th' woods around th' prison. He grabbed Soph, was gonna try t' make off with her."

          "We had him covered. I'd told Carl to stay back, but of course, hardheaded as he is, he didn't listen. He came up behind the man and …" Rick let his voice trail away. How did one tell his wife their child had killed a man?

          Lori's hand rose to cover her mouth in horror. "He killed him?" she rasped. "Oh, god!"

          Carol tried to pull Daryl away, but he was having none of it. "He saved her, Lori. Carl's a hero. I cain't ever repay what he did for Sophia."

          Rick nodded at him as he wrapped an arm around his wife. "Don't go far. We need to assemble everyone and talk about this move. Get a vote and all."

          "Lemme know when you're ready."

 

*.*.*

 

          "Gawd! What is that smell?" Daryl groaned, his stomach rumbling as he stepped into the kitchen on his way to the basement to drop off his pack.

          T-Dog sat at the center island next to Patricia, his hands and forearms covered in flour as the two worked together to roll and cut dumplings for the pot Alexandra was stirring. "That, my friend, is going to be one fine dinner," he grinned.

          He didn't miss the fond smile Patricia shot towards the big man. Those two had been inseparable of late. Carol slipped around from behind him and moved to inspect the new girl's culinary prowess. Alex blushed under T's praise. "I took some of the rabbit your husband had stored away in the freezer. It's not chicken, but I think it'll make a fine pot of dumplings."

          Carol took the spoon from her and tasted the broth, her eyes alight with pleasure. "This is wonderful."

          "I used some of those dehydrated onions, bell pepper and scallions to make a stock. It was easy from there. Our men don't care as long as it's filling," she explained. "Not my usual fare, but I suppose it'll do considering our limited resources. I put some things on your list while you were gone … for the next run. I hope you don't mind."

          "Y' keep cookin' like that, an' we'll get what y' need," Daryl said, laying a hand on his wife's shoulder as she held the spoon up for him to taste. "Damn, woman, y' got some competition in th' kitchen now."

          Carol chuckled. "It's nice t' know we have help with the cooking. I was running out of recipes for rabbit and squirrel," she teased.

          "Alex used to own a restaurant before everything went to hell," Patricia remarked, setting the rolling pin aside and adding more flour to the mix. "Y'all lucked up in finding her group."

          Daryl left them to their work, tugging on Carol's hand to move her along towards the staircase leading into their basement room. He didn't miss her smug smirk as he set his pack and bow down in the corner. "Shut up."

          "What?" she asked, her lips blooming in an innocent smile.

          "Y' know what. Y' all smug and shit about what Patricia said … 'bout findin' th' group. Y' not always gonna be right, woman. One o' these days, y' gonna come across people who ain't so nice."

          She stepped closer to him, sighing softly as she toyed with the buttons on his shirt. "I know. We got lucky."

          "Need t' be more careful." It was all he said, but he made himself clear. He wasn't going to harp on the dangers they faced every day. He'd already scolded her for the risks she'd taken to get him back.

          "Take your shirt off," she commanded gently, stepping back to remove her boots and set them aside.

          He arched a brow. "Feelin' frisky, baby?"

          "Just do it, Dixon."

          Daryl did as she'd asked, reaching for her, but she side-stepped him, avoiding his grasping hands. His face fell in disappointment. "Carol –"

          "Lie down on the bed … on your stomach." She knew how to soothe her beast.

          He gave her a long searching look before he finally complied. The position made him uncomfortable, exposing his back to her in such a way, unsure of what she would do. He trusted her; he did, but it was hard to quell years of memories … memories of pain and torment which haunted him. And she banished it all with a single touch. His wife's delicate hands – hands which could cause untold destruction just as easily as offer comfort – smoothed over the rigid scars on his back, her fingertips kneading into the tense muscles. Daryl groaned, feeling himself sink into the cool quilt beneath him, his worries fleeing his mind to make way for the pleasure her touch wrought on his weary flesh.

          "Gawd, woman … that feels fuckin' amazing," he sighed, closing his eyes and giving himself over to her, happy to be her willing slave.

          Perched low over his hips, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot behind his ear. "I love you," she whispered, resuming her tender ministrations to rid him of the knots of stress riddling his body.

          "Love y' too."

          "I know you didn't sleep well last night. You couldn't have with all my tossing and turning," she retorted, a frown knitting her brow. "I'm sorry. I just thought since we had a minute, I'd try to make you feel better."

          He groaned, wrapping his arms around his pillow and burying his head in its softness as she worked on a particularly tricky knot beneath his left shoulder blade. "Definitely makin' me feel better, baby."

          "Daryl?"

          "Mmm?" he sighed again, knowing by the tone of her voice she had something on her mind. "Spit it out, woman. What's wrong?"

          Carol bit her lip, her thumbs continuing to dig deep into the ridge of his spine. "How do you think the council will vote? Do you think they're going to want to move to the prison?"

          "Dunno. We'll jus' have t' see how th' meetin' goes." He turned his head to glance at her over his shoulder. "Still don't tell me what's botherin' y'."

          Her touch stilled on his back for a moment while she gathered her thoughts. "I don't know … I suppose I'm just worrying for nothing, but do you really think this is a good place for us after Merle warned us to stay away? And who knows what we're going to find inside. What if it's more than we can handle? I don't want to lose anyone else, Daryl."

          "I learned a good while ago, y' don't worry for nothin'. They're all valid concerns, Carol. Merle warned us away 'cause Blake's got his eye on th' place, wantin' it for himself. He's gonna feel threatened by anyone who can go in there an' clear it out, for one. M' brother didn't think we could take it, an' we prob'ly couldn't've before we took in this new group. But we're stronger now. If I could talk Merle into it, we could no doubt go in an' take Woodbury. If he wasn't so goddamn stubborn." He sighed, shifting beneath her as her skilled fingers kneaded a particularly troublesome knot on his lower back. "'Sides, better than going town t' town an' house t' house. Shit's good for scavengin', not for tryin' t' find permanent shelter."

          "He's looking out for us Daryl. He doesn't want to put us in danger."

          "Pfft," he scoffed, tired of waiting on Merle and his harebrained schemes. "And there ain't no sense in worryin' about what we're gonna find inside. Won't know until we can get in there. No use losin' sleep over it." He rolled over beneath her, his strong arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her down to lie beside him. "Y' know I ain't gonna let nothin' happen t' you and Soph, right? I  _will_  protect my family."

          Carol carded her fingers through his hair, letting her worries go for the time being to revel in the comfort of his arms. "I know you will."

          That half-moon grin, she loved so much, quirked the corner of his mouth as he nuzzled her cheek. "Trust me."

 

*.*.*

 

          Rick called Daryl and Carol into the den, wanting to talk to them before the council convened to discuss the move. The archer raised a brow when he saw Lori sitting stiffly on the sofa and the kids standing awkwardly fidgeting in the middle of the spacious room. "What's goin' on here?" he asked, noting the sullen expression on his daughter's usually perky features.

          "Actually, the children called us all here. They claim they have something to say," Rick said, trying to keep the amusement off his face. It didn't take much to sour his mood. All he had to do was take one look at his wife sitting there, her lips pinched in disdain.

          Carol moved to sit next to her friend, reaching out to squeeze her hand. It couldn't be easy for her, being so at odds with her son. Daryl crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands in his armpits as he stared at the kids with a wary expression while Rick planted his hands on his hips and raised his brows. "Alright, what is it you lot want to talk to us about?"

          Sophia and Carl shared a knowing look, but it took a nudge from her to get the boy talking. "I wanted to apologize," he admitted grudgingly. "I know I shouldn't have stowed away in the car for the trip to the prison. I was worried about Soph and I let my emotions get me into trouble."

          Daryl snorted. "How long did it take y' t' memorize what she told y' t' say?"

          "Daryl!" Carol admonished, shaking her head.

          "Told you this was pointless," the boy said to Sophia.

          "Just tell them what you told me," she hissed furiously in his ear.

          Carl sighed. "I didn't mean to scare you, Mom … really. I know you're wanting to keep me close, to protect me and keep me safe, but you have to let me grow up. I'm a part of this group, too. I don't want to waste my life hiding behind you and dad, always having one of you save me. I need to be useful. I need to pull my weight and be a part of this team, to learn to take care of myself as well as the others."

          Lori truly felt for her son in that moment, seeing the struggle written so clearly upon his face. "Baby, I understand, but you're  _twelve_. You're just a boy …  _my_  boy, and I don't want to see you hurt."

          "When Daryl was twelve, he was already fending for himself –"

          "Oh, hell no! Y' ain't draggin' me into this shit," Daryl growled. "I ain't had a choice. You do."

          Rick held up a hand. "Enough! Carl, you’ve proved you're more than capable, and that you're well on your way to being a strong member of this group." He shot Lori a silencing glance as she opened her mouth to protest. "Therefore, you are going to be put in charge of you mother's safety. Right now, she's doing well. She's handy with a knife and gun, but as her pregnancy progresses, she's going to need your help. Her reflexes aren't going to be quite as quick and on point. She's going to need you to have her back. And since Sophia is your partner … she'll be with you. With the two of you watching over her, it will go a long way towards putting my mind at ease."

          "Are you sure this isn't just some way of punishing me for sneaking out?" Carl groaned. He emitted a small  _oomph_  as Sophia elbowed him in the ribs.

          His father stared him down. "You want to protect others in the group, show everyone you're a capable young man, well, here's your chance. Take it or leave it."

          "I'll do it, Dad. I won't let you down again."

          Rick strode forward and rested a hand on his son's shoulder. "You didn't let me down, Carl. I understand you're growing up and want to prove yourself. This is the way to do it, son. I can't think of anyone better to watch after your mom than you and Sophia."

          Carol squeezed Lori's hand, leaning over to whisper in her ear so the children couldn't hear. "It'll be ok. He'll never be far from your side now."

          "I know. I just hate that he feels as if he has something to prove, and I hate that there's even a reason why he'd need to protect me," she lamented quietly, tears sparkling in her eyes.

          "You're his mother. You don't want him to grow up like this. I don't want it for Sophia either, but we don't have a choice. At least this way we'll be able to keep an eye on them."

          Sophia caught Rick's arm as he turned to move away. "I have something to say, too."

          "What is it, Sophia?" he asked, his head tilting to the side as he gave her his full attention.

          "I want to apologize for my part in all this. I shouldn't have helped him sneak out. I was selfish, only thinking of having him with me, having my back while we were out there. I'm sorry," she said, her gaze flitting over to her father who nodded approvingly. He seemed to know how much it took for her to admit she was wrong, acknowledge it and then apologize for it.

          "If y' mean it, Sophia, I expect y' t' take your job seriously an' help Carl. Y' got me?" Daryl asked, spearing her with his steely blue gaze.

          "I do, Daddy. I'll make you proud; I promise."

          Rick smiled at the kids. "Ok, if there's nothing more, I'd like you two to go and gather the council. Tell them we're ready to begin."

 

*.*.*

 

          The council assembled, Rick swiped a weary hand over his face taking them all in. Lori sat behind him on the sofa with Andrea and Shane, Glenn, Maggie and Hershel crowded onto its twin. Daryl perched on the arm of Carol's chair, looking antsy – but when didn't the hunter seem less than a ball of energy waiting to bolt into some new problem which needed solving. Their newest members had joined them as well, Tori taking another chair, her sergeant resting at ease at her back. Hopefully, he would be able to address them quickly and come to a decision on the move.

          "I'm sorry to have pulled you all from other duties," he began, "but we need to discuss a possible move. I'm sure the run we went on is no secret to any of you by now. We've located a place – a prison about fifteen miles east of Woodbury – which would give us a bit more safety than what we have here."

          "The same prison marked on the map Merle gave us?" Maggie interrupted. "The one he warned us to stay away from?"

          "It's a risk, I know," Rick stressed, "but I think this place has real potential."

          "There's fences, guard towers, plenty o' room for all o' us," Daryl added. "Merle didn't want us takin' it for two reasons. One, it's overrun. We woulda had a hellava time clearin' it, but with our new people, that ain't gonna be a problem. Two, th' governor has his eye on it."

          "With the proper precautions, we should be able to fend him off," Shane piped in.

          Tori watched them all speculatively. "What about runs? If it's that close to Woodbury, surely this governor person is going to take notice of any runs we make close to his town."

          Rick clipped the map to a small whiteboard they'd found in the study and positioned it where they all could see it. "Here is the prison," he pointed out. "If we only hit the towns to the east, we should be able to stay off his radar. It's a temporary solution until Merle can come through with his plans, but it will bring us a measure of safety we don't have here. We can't afford to have another herd blow through here like we had at the farm. We need fences, walls."

          "It's not to say there's not going to be a lot of work. There's a breach to the rear which will have to be shored up," Shane warned. "And there's no telling what we'll find inside. With the amount of walkers we saw in the yard, you can bet there's a lot more inside. They're going to have to be cleared out."

          Hershel leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees. "There will be food, medicine, weapons. It could benefit the group greatly. If the soil is fertile, we could possibly grow our own food as well."

          Glenn nodded. "And if we can find a town with one of those home improvement stores, we should be able to reinforce the fences."

          Jamie shifted behind her, drawing Tori's worried gaze. "Sounds too good to be true, honestly."

          "It won't be easy," Carol spoke for the first time, remembering what she'd seen for herself of the prison, "but name one thing that has been since all this started. We're together, we're strong, and we have a purpose, a reason to keep fighting to survive this."

          Tori reached up and laid her hand over the sergeant's where it rested on the back of her chair. "I want our people to be safe, Jamie. I'm tired of running."

          Rick crossed his arms over his chest, looking at each member of the council. "Alright, let's vote. All those in favor?"

          The decision was unanimous … they were taking the prison.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: We're beginning that transition to the prison. Yay! This chapter may have had a fillery vibe, but it's necessary to move the story along :D Next time: The governor begins to doubt Merle's loyalty, the group says goodbye to the colonial and hello to the prison. Really hope y'all are still enjoying the story. Don't hesitate to let me know what you think. Thanks so much for reading!


	57. Chapter 57

 

          "Martine … so lovely to see you returned to us safe and sound."

          Marty suppressed a shiver as Blake pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, and forced a smile to her face. Gawd! The man made her skin crawl. She hated being in the man's personal space, but she wasn't likely to let Merle face the man on his own to give his report. Merle wasn't happy about bringing her along, hating to put her in the governor's presence. "Good t' be home, sir."

          Blake rounded his desk and resumed his seat, motioning them to the chairs set before it. "How was the run? Were you able to locate this group the scouts mentioned?"

          Merle clenched his fists in his lap. "There was no group, sir. Jus' a shit storm o' walkers," he grumbled, meeting the man's cold stare with one of his own as he fought to keep his emotions in check. "We walked into an ambush, an' lost a good many men. I'm thinkin' these scouts y' got out there prowling about ain't as trustworthy as you'd like t' think."

          Philip leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. "How many casualties?"

          Marty cast a fleeting look at her lover before answering. "Fifteen. We were checkin' out th' last known location y' gave us when we encountered th' herd. Russo an' his men were loose cannons. He didn't want t' follow Merle's orders. They were sloppy an' careless."

          Blake picked up the silver letter opener on his desk and picked at his nails, seemingly unaffected by the loss of his men. "They were a liability, I'll give you that. And your own men … your  _team?"_  he asked, a note of barely detectable sarcasm coloring his tone.

          "All accounted for," Merle responded. "I trust 'em, they're good at followin' orders an' don't give me no shit about my decisions out there. Anyone else y' want t' send out with us … I'd like t' work with 'em, train 'em up a bit before a run like that."

          The governor rose to his feet, his oily smile in place once more. "That sounds like a novel idea. We don't want a repeat of this in future. This town is only as strong as those who protect it. I expect a full written report within the next several days, Dixon."

          Marty slipped her hand into Merle's as they were dismissed, finally able to take a deep calming breath as they gained the corridor. She could feel him vibrating with tension and couldn't help but be a bit relieved when they were safely back in their apartment. Then, she unleashed her worry upon him, pushing him back against the door, her hand braced against his chest. "He's beginnin' t' suspect. This latest stunt … gawd, Merle! Y' knew it was a risk t' take out his men!"

          "Lower yer voice, woman!" he hissed, his jaw clenched. "Would y' have rathered have that scum walkin' th' streets o' Woodbury, havin' t' watch yer back constantly? It was necessary!"

          He pulled her into his arms and some of the fight drained out of her. "I love you, Merle. I can't stand th' thought o' losin' y'. Please," she cried, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck so she could breathe him in. "Please."

          His fingers delved into her long ebony locks, his other hand curved over her trim waist. "Y' ain't gonna lose me, Marty."

          "Y' cain't promise me that! Blake's a sneaky bastard, an' won't hesitate t' put a bullet in your head if he thinks you've betrayed him," she wailed, pressing closer to him, her breathing erratic as she was overwhelmed with fear. "This is a dangerous game you're playing, an' I'm not gonna watch y' die … I cain't."

          Merle sighed heavily, his gut clenching to see such panic in her lovely jade eyes. He cradled her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away her tears. He'd never imagined before the turn that it would be her to claim his heart so fully. He'd scoffed at Daryl for his interest in Carol, knowing he'd just be burned. Women weren't to be trusted with feelings and shit. And now, he had fallen victim to love, and couldn't imagine his life without her. Martine Comeaux was just as much his family as Daryl and his girls. She must be protected at all costs.

          He brought his lips to hers, his heart fluttering madly at the sob which broke against his mouth. The elder Dixon hadn't known gentleness before the turn, but he couldn't imagine being any other way with her as he poured his love into their kiss. "I love y', Marty. Ain't got no plans for leavin' y' behind, either. You're stuck with me, woman."

          "You have t' be careful," she insisted as he lifted her into his arms and carried her towards their small bathroom to wash the stink of walker off of them. "Please, Merle."

          "I promise."

 

*.*.*

 

          Shumpert stood before Blake's desk, crossing his arms over his massive chest as he waited for the governor to speak.

          Blake didn't keep him waiting. "Merle Dixon and his team are becoming quite the problem," he sighed, staring down his most loyal soldier. "I have a job for you, Shumpert."

          "Sir."

          "Watch them. I want to know every move they make. Assemble as many men as you need to keep track of their movements," Philip snarled, slamming his hand down upon the polished oak surface of his desk. "I will not tolerate treachery of any sort."

          The big black man shifted nervously. "How're you so sure Merle is a traitor? He's been by your side for a long time now, carrying out your orders."

          "That's what I want you to find out. Make sure he's still loyal only to me."

          "It would be easy to get him to talk. His woman is the key," Shumpert replied as he shuffled his way to the door.

Philip leaned back in his chair and retrieved a bottle of whiskey from the bottom drawer of his desk. He had no doubt in his mind he could torture Merle and the man would never betray his team or the motivation of his change in allegiance. But he was equally certain Dixon would die rather than seeing his woman harmed. Yes, Martine was the key … and once Merle was dealt with, there would be nothing to stand in his way of possessing the emerald-eyed warrior.

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol slid her arms around her husband's waist from behind and pressed her face between his shoulder blades, her cheek rubbing against the angel wings on his vest. "You're going to really miss this place, aren't you?" she asked, content just to hold him as his eyes searched their room for anything he might've missed.

          Daryl sighed. "It ain't th' house so much," he grumbled, his chin dipping towards his chest. "More that it reminds me you an' Soph were happy here. Y' had hot water an' the generator t' provide electricity. There was a fridge an' freezer t' keep my kills fresh." He pulled her around him, so she was facing him. "All your needs were seen t' here, Carol. We ain't certain what we're gonna find at th' prison."

          His wife burrowed against him as his arms wrapped around her back. "It's just a house, Daryl. Not our first and probably not our last before all is said and done.  _You_  are my home.  _You_  and our daughter. This is just four walls and a roof, but my family …  _our_  family is my home."

          "We'll probably be sleepin' in th' tents tonight."

          "More room to snuggle to stay warm," she argued, pressing her lips to the hollow of his throat. She refused to allow him to sink into a surly mood if she could avoid it.

          "No shower after we put down that first wave o' walkers in the outer prison yard," he grouched.

          "Won't be the first time you came to bed a little ripe."

          His eyes narrowed as she shot him down again with her optimism. "Goin' t' bed hungry."

          "Pfft," she scoffed. "There's plenty of food to tide us over."

          Daryl threw his arms up in surrender. "Woman, it's dangerous out there!"

          "And it's dangerous here with no walls, no fences, no way to protect us if a herd blows through. Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you, Dixon?" she asked, stubbornly crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at him.

          He grimaced at her tone. He didn't want to fight with her, and he knew it would come to that if he didn't talk to her. "Merle."

          "You're afraid he's going to be angry because we're leaving?"

          "Naw," he protested. "I can hold my own against that asshole. I'm more worried he won't find us there." He pointed to the drawing he'd left on the wall.

          It was four circles, the last to the east with a big X drawn through it. "Why does this look strangely familiar?"

          A smirk curled one corner of his mouth as he felt her arms slide unconsciously over his waist. He was happy her pique hadn't lasted long. "Cain't leave him a note like we did at th' bunker. What if someone else found it before he could? So, I drew th' places he'd circled on th' map, the X showing him where we'll be. I jus' hope his dumbass sees it for what it is."

          Carol raised up on the balls of her feet and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. "You're so clever," she stated with pride. He blushed beneath her praise, wondering if he'd ever get used to it. "Only Merle or one of his team would be able to decipher this."

          "Guys!" Glenn yelled from the top of the stairs. "We're loaded and ready to go. Rick sent me to find you."

          Daryl sighed and retrieved his crossbow from the corner where he normally kept it. "A'right, we're comin'," he called back.

          Carol hesitated on the bottom step when he made no move to follow her.

          He grinned at her sheepishly. "Y' think there's room in th' truck t' bring th' bed?"

          His wife giggled. "No. If we bring our bed, everyone else is going to want to bring theirs, and then we'll be another day getting out of here." She arched a brow. "Don't tell me our fearsome hunter has gotten a bit spoiled."

          "Stahhhhp."

 

*.*.*

 

          "Looks like a goddamned caravan," Daryl yelled over his shoulder to his wife as he caught sight of the vehicles behind him in one of the Triumph's mirrors. "Anyone sees us, an' this could turn ugly fast."

          Carol snuck a peek behind her at the trucks trailing them. Rick waved from the driver's seat of the Suburban, Lori, Carl, and her precious Sophia tucked in safely with their leader. Behind him was Shane and Andrea in Patricia's old blue pickup. T-Dog and Patricia were in the silver Dodge they'd found in Griffin on the ill-fated run which had gotten Daryl kidnapped. He hadn't been too happy when he'd been forced to leave behind his old blue and white pickup, but there was nothing for it. He hadn't had the time to fix the carburetor. Besides, she thought, they had more than enough room for everyone in the remaining vehicles. Glenn was driving the green Hyundai, Hershel, Maggie, Beth and Randall his passengers, and the spa group bringing up the rear in their own trucks. She was grateful they had so much room for their supplies, though the fuel consumption seemed to worry her husband.

          "It can't be helped, Daryl. You were outvoted." Daryl hadn't wanted everyone to make the move in one go, but he'd been shot down. Rick and Shane weren't comfortable taking so many to the prison to clear it out and leaving the rest behind to fend for themselves. It was agreed upon they all had to stick together. The group wouldn't be returning to Griffin.

          Daryl grunted, letting her know he was still peeved with the council's decision. Why put more of them in danger than necessary? Though, with Carol and the kids not ready for another run after their last close call, they would have been left behind, and that wasn't an option for the hunter. They were his whole world, and he wanted to have them close to him. If he had to worry over their safety, being hours away from him, it would make him sloppy and careless. He wouldn't be good to anyone if that were the case. He couldn't afford to let his people down because his head wasn't in the game.

          A four-hour trip from the colonial took them nearly six – and not because the roads were filled with walkers or abandoned cars – but because of the frequent rests to relieve themselves or grab a bite to eat. By the time they reached the prison, Daryl was surly and quick to temper, the afternoon sun and lack of time to clear the yard before nightfall having him snapping at anyone who looked at him wrong. He tried to rein in his temper … for his girls, but it wasn't easy.

          Rick grabbed a bottle of water and brought it over to his friend as everyone began to exit the vehicles for a long stretch to work out the kinks after such a long ride. They'd parked on the side of the fence where a wide fresh water stream ran several yards from it. The heavy foliage would keep them hidden from prying eyes until they could move the trucks into the courtyard, and the stream would slow any walkers down which tried to cross it to get at them. Daryl took the bottle from Rick and drained it, watching as Carol moved to the Suburban to check on Lori and the children. Ever the mama, his wife.

          It wasn't long before Shane joined them by Daryl's bike. "Looks like we've got more walkers since we were here last," he commented worriedly, drinking from his own bottle. "Should we do a perimeter check before we try to get in there?"

          "With as much noise as those dead bastards are makin' inside, it don't surprise me none that it's drawn more of 'em." Daryl squinted against the late afternoon sunlight, hoping the glare wouldn't hinder their mission. He looked off to where his wife, Lori and the children were gathered around the Suburban and whistled for them. He couldn't help but notice how close the boy was sticking to Sophia, especially after what had happened the last time they'd been there.  
          Rick turned to his former partner. "I don't know that we have time to do a perimeter search right now. Not if we're going to take the yard before dark hits us."

          Daryl leaned over, his hands braced on his knees as his scrutinizing gaze focused on the children. "Y'all a'right? Y' ready?"

          They both nodded. He could see the fierce determination in his daughter's eyes. "Y' sure, Soph?"

          "I'm ready, Daddy. We can do this," she assured him, tightening the grip on her bow.

          "What's the plan, Dixon?" Lori asked, certain he hadn't called them over for nothing.

          He rummaged for a moment in his saddlebags and retrieved a Beretta, silencer firmly attached to the barrel which he thrust into the brunette's hands. "The kids are in charge o' your safety, so you're gonna stick close t' them. Don't mean we ain't gonna need them to cover our asses until we get inside the outer fence," he explained, pleased to see Rick and Shane paying attention. "Carl an' Sophia are gonna take point. We're gonna need silence, an' they're spot on with their bows. You are t' stay between them an' Randall. Don't want no harm comin' t' that baby. Got it?"

          Rick called Tori over. "Split up some of your people – teams of three – to take a walk around the perimeter. Check for breaches and take out any walkers you might find. Any buildup, have them back off until we can send in more of our group to handle it. Do not risk yourselves. Use your knives or any guns which have silencers. Try to make as little noise as possible to keep from drawing more."

          She gave a stiff nod. "And the rest of us?"

          "The rest of you are with us. We're all going to have to work together to get this done."

          Shane checked the chamber on his Mossberg as Andrea stepped to his side. "Alright, people, let's do this!" he whisper-shouted.

          Knives were drawn, and weapons were readied as they stepped out of the tree line and approached the fence. Everyone had a job to do, and the concentration between them all was focused. Glenn handed Rick the bolt cutters, enabling their leader to cut through the chain link. As soon as there was a big enough space, they began herding their people into the walkway between the outer fence and the one which enclosed the yard. Daryl took off at a run, his crossbow resting on his right arm and a quiver of arrows slung across his back. Carol waited with Glenn, ushering Lori and the children through while Glenn went to work on wiring the breach closed.

          They were allowed a breather as they reached the main gate leading into the yard, an overturned bus lying almost flush with it. No doubt, the guard's way of attempting to keep the walkers out. Too bad they'd had no idea what was facing them from within.

          "It's perfect," Shane breathed, his eyes narrowed on what lay before them.

          Rick nodded, agreeing, and pointed to the gate leading into the courtyard right outside the cell block. "If we can shut that gate, prevent more from filling the yard, we can pick off these walkers. We'll take the yard by tonight."

          Hershel rested a hand on Rick's shoulder. "How do we shut the gate?"

          Glenn gulped, his voice cutting through the silence. "I'll do it. You guys cover me," he offered before anyone else could volunteer.

          Maggie shook her head. "No … it's a suicide run!" she protested.

          "I'm the fastest. It should be me," he argued.

          Rick didn't take his eyes off what was in front of him, measuring the distance and the clearest path to the gate which needed to be closed. "No, I need you here. Me and Shane will take the gate." He turned to his friend. "I trust you to cover my back."

          "You got it," the former deputy nodded solemnly.

          "Daryl, take Carol and the kids to that tower," he said, pointing to the one to the far left of the field. "Go easy on the ammo. Make every shot count, because we don't know when we'll find more. Hershel, you and Randall take tower two. Everyone else, I want you along this fence drawing them to you. Pop them through the fence."

          Rick's eyes widened when he turned towards the gate and found himself face to face with his wife. "Lori …"

          "Someone has to be here to let you in and out. Everyone else has a job to do … well, this is mine," she insisted. The chain in his hand rattled as she stepped into his personal space and pressed her brow to his, her voice a mere whisper. "You come back to me, Rick Grimes. Stay safe. Do you hear me?!"

          Rick caught her to him, burying his face against the crook of her neck. He closed his eyes and breathed her in. He didn't want the think of how troubled their marriage had been before the turn, the arguing, the fights, the long days where she wouldn't speak to him at all. The chaos of the new world had only made them stronger and given them time to re-evaluate what was important … one another and their children. "Don't I always?" he whispered, his warm breath ghosting over her ear. "Trust me, Lori."

          "I do," she murmured, her fingers fisting in his hair. "And I love you. Now go." She released him, holding his gaze as she opened the gate to let them in, returning the nod Shane tossed her way. The brunette moved to the fence to take a stance with the others, but she had eyes only for her husband as he moved swiftly across the yard towards the inner gate. Her lips danced in cadence with the prayers in her heart, knowing without a doubt God was listening.

          Rick and Shane ran, fleet of foot, firing off several rounds into the walkers flooding the yard when they ambled too close. In the tower, Daryl stood with Carol, Sophia and Carl between them, doing their part to keep the walkers off their runners. He couldn't help but notice the slight wince his wife made with every round she sent down into the horde below. He would have to remember to ask her about it later. It could be she wasn't used to the rifle she'd been handed. Carl wore a look of pure concentration as he and Sophia steadily worked through the quivers on their backs. He was proud of how far they'd come since Merle had begun their training at the quarry.

          "Move with 'em. Compensate for th' fact that they ain't gonna stand still for y'," he coached when Sophia missed one and cursed under her breath. He leaned closer so only she could hear. "An' y' better not let your mama hear that word, baby girl."

          Daryl had just straightened from drawing the string back on his crossbow when he saw Rick stumble, avoiding the bullet which barely missed his foot. Carol cringed, yelling down, "Sorry!"

          "Daddy!" Sophia cried, pointing to his right where Shane was being cornered by two walkers in inmate coveralls. He didn't hesitate to let the bolt fly, giving the former deputy time to send his knife forward into the remaining walker's eye.

          Rick had reached the gate, his booted foot swinging out to push a walker back who was reaching for him. He slammed the gate shut and quickly locked the chain in place. But it wasn't over yet. He grabbed Shane by the scruff of his neck and hauled him over to the door leading into the remaining guard tower, climbing the stairs quickly to the catwalk above to join in the fray.

          Carol reloaded, laughing joyfully as she waved to their leader. "He did it!"

          Daryl cupped a hand over his mouth to amplify his voice, shouting, "Light it up!", giving the signal the rest of the group had been waiting for to open fire on the remaining walkers. Even Lori had her gun out, taking out as many as she could. The rotted forms of walkers dropped all over the yard, the sight filling them all with hope. It didn't take them long to clear, and Daryl was relieved to see they still had a few hours to get their camp set up for the night before darkness fell.

          "A'right, you two," he said to the kids, "let's get down there an' start collectin' bolts. I want 'em cleaned before dark."

          He couldn't bite back a tiny grin at his wife as they exited the tower to be joined by the others. "Fantastic!" she cried, throwing her arms around him in her elation. He was still smiling as she ran through the gate with the kids. "Oh! We haven't had this much space since we left the farm."

          There had been at least three acres surrounding the colonial, but after what had happened at the farm, none of them had felt comfortable with the open space.

          Daryl slung the crossbow onto his back and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. "But y' got fences now, baby … t' keep y' safe."  
Carol chuckled softly, hugging his arms closer to her as she turned her face up to his for a kiss. "Who needs fences when we have a Daryl."

          "Pfft!" he scoffed. She had entirely too much faith in him. "It'll do until Merle comes through."

          "And if he doesn't … we'll have a place to make into a home." She was distracted as Glenn took out a walker they'd missed, her eyes crinkling at the edges in a worried frown. "I worry about him, Daryl. Maybe we should convince him and his team to just join us here. It's not like we don't have room now."

          He sighed heavily and rested his chin against her shoulder. "Y' know how stubborn m' brother can be, woman."

          "That's what I'm afraid of."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Hooray! They're in! On the other hand, Merle is in a world of shit and doesn't even know it. I hope y'all enjoyed the chapter. Please let me know what you think :D Thanks for reading.


	58. Chapter 58

 

          Daryl prowled atop the bus overturned by the gate, his sharp eyes scanning the tree line in the distance as he did his turn on watch. At least when he wasn't constantly glancing over his shoulder to check on his girls. He couldn't seem to help himself. The marines had hurried to erect the tents they'd brought along before they commandeered two of the watch towers, leaving the women to rest from the long journey and prepare the evening meal. Some of the women had covered the vehicles with some type of camouflaged tarps, thinking they'd be safe until they could be brought inside the fences. The hunter liked the little woman who'd led the marine group for so long. She was tough and no nonsense, but with a soft core. Much like his wife – his angel – after she'd been free to spread her wings.

          He watched Carol begin to dish up their dinner into the tin bowls they used, speaking softly to Kayla and Patricia, his eyes drawn to the little smile on her lips. No matter how bad things were for them, how precarious their situation, she always had a kind word, a smile, compassion and understanding for her 'family'. She was his treasure. As if she could feel his gaze upon her, she caught his eye across the distance, and her smile widened. His cheeks heated as he noticed Patricia nudge her and say something which had the rest of them chuckling.  _Fuck … caught starin' at m' own wife._  He pulled the poncho closer around his sides, battling against the chilly evening breeze. He hoped everyone was planning on doubling up for the night, because it was going to be a cold one.

          Movement off to his left had him dragging his gaze in that direction. Rick was patrolling the fence, Lori at his side, her hand firmly clasped in his larger one. Carl and Sophia trailed after them, the foursome checking for any breech which would put them in danger. He admired Rick for his dedication to his family. After Lori and Shane's affair had come to light, it would have been easy for Rick not to want anything more to do with the woman. Instead, they made a real effort to work on their marriage. Hell, he'd even forgiven Shane and their friendship was stronger than ever. It was astounding how dire life and death situations could bring everything into a new perspective. He never would have dreamed he'd find a family of his own. Not in a million years. Then again, he never thought he'd live to see his brother turn all noble and shit, either.

          Daryl slung his crossbow across his back as he heard his wife call out to him from the ground, warning him she was climbing up. "Woman, where th' hell is your jacket? Y' gonna freeze," he scolded, reaching down to help her up the rest of the way.

          Carol glanced down at her sweater. "It was warm by the fire," she explained. "I just came to bring your dinner, Pookie. You won't eat at all if I don't bring you something."

          He shrugged at her reproving tone. "Make sure everybody else has somethin' first. Ain't a big deal." It didn't stop him from digging in to the savory rabbit she'd spent the last hour or so roasting over the campfire. Or the canned new potatoes she'd seasoned with some of the last of her dill and salt. He'd have to make a run in the next week or so to replenish her stock.

          "You're important too, Daryl," she sighed, rubbing at her right shoulder.

          "What's wrong?" he asked around a mouthful of rabbit, his eyes narrowing as he took in the lines of pain around her eyes.

          "It's ok. Just … rifle kickback. I forgot to pad my shoulder." She ducked her head, not wanting to see disappointment in his eyes. He'd warned her to use the padded sleeve he'd crafted for her, but in the excitement, she'd simply forgotten.

          Daryl set the bowl down and licked the flavorful grease from his fingers before beckoning her closer. "C'mere an' lemme see, baby," he drawled, peeling back the edge of her sweater. He winced as he looked down at her delicate shoulder already beginning to bruise. "Y' shoulda said somethin' earlier."

          Carol made a happy little moan low in her throat as her husband's work-roughened hands smoothed over her weary muscles. "I couldn't. I had work to do. And before you even think to scold me, I had plenty of help. I mostly just had to supervise and get everyone organized."

          "Uh-huh." He knew just how much work went into her organizational and supervisory tasks. And it was true for the most part. "I know … watched y'. But then y' personally unpacked an' separated all th' beddin' an' delivered it personally t' each tent."

          She chuckled, leaning into his warm touch. "Spying on me, huh?"

          "Always," he growled, pressing his lips to her shoulder before he let her go. "C'mon, let's get back. See about getting' y' warm."

          Carol pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side, regarding him with a teasing glint in her eye. One he recognized all too well. "It's pretty romantic," she purred. "Wanna screw around?"

          Strong arms slipped about her waist and reeled her in to press flush against him. "Why y' think I'm ready t' go back? I plan on warmin' y' up … personally," he murmured against her lips before claiming a lingering kiss. His tongue gliding sinuously alongside hers, a flick against the roof of her mouth and she was melting weakly against him.

          "You're such a tease," she moaned, burying her face against his throat to nip sharply at his collarbone. "You are not scarring our daughter with your beastly ways."

          Daryl huffed a laugh at her prim – but still teasing – tone, and waggled his brows. "I'll show y' beastly, woman." He climbed down from the bus and spread his arms wide, supporting her slight weight and guiding her steps as she followed. His arms tightened around her slim waist as she found her footing on solid ground, his body pressing into her soft curves.

          She sighed breathily as his lips nipped and teased at her, drawing on his urgency and making it her own. "Daryl …" she moaned, heat coursing through her and burning her with its intensity. The soft refrain of song reached her ears as her husband dropped his brow to her shoulder, his soft panting breaths warm against her skin. She carded her fingers through his shaggy hair, scratching lightly just behind his ear and he shivered. "What is it?"

          "I'm sorry," he rasped, raising his dark eyes to hers.

          "What? Why?!"

He struggled with his words, his tongue twisting and threatening to glue itself to the roof of his mouth. "I … I jus' … damnit!" He moved to pull away, but she wouldn't let him go. "What if this place is more trouble than it's worth? What if I cain't keep you an' Soph safe here?"

          "It's a risk, yes … but one we all – the whole council – agreed to take. Our whole lives are a risk, Daryl, every day. It was you who told me not to let fear rule my life. I'm not going to let you do the same. Now stop … please." She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth and felt some of the tension ease out of him. "Breathe."

          "Sorry," he apologized, leaning into her touch as she rubbed against his breastbone. "I think of how much I love y' an' what it would do t' me t' lose y' an' th' 'what ifs' sneak up on me."

          Carol wrapped her arms around him and sent up a little prayer of thanks for the gift of her husband, the other half of her soul. "I love you too. One day at a time, one more kiss, one more 'I love you' … until we can't anymore. It's why we fight so hard, why we _live_." She clung to him until he relaxed and the last of his unrest fled his body. His panic attacks were nothing new, and she'd gotten quite skilled in soothing him. It was much better than when he'd take his anxiety out on the group or disappear into the woods for days on end as it had been before they'd fallen in love. His fears for the group, for her and Sophia, for Merle and the dangerous game he was playing with Blake were just more than he could contain sometimes. But he was getting better. The faith Rick had in him went a long way in helping him too, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

          Daryl pressed his brow to hers and took a deep calming breath. "C'mon. Need t' get y' warm … even if we gotta sit there an' listen t' Beth's caterwaulin'."

          Carol snorted and linked her fingers with his as he led her back to camp. "Don't be mean."

          He found an empty spot by the fire between Rick and Lori off to his right, and Shane and Andrea to his left. It seemed as if the two couples had reserved the space for them. The kids were laid out on the other side of the campfire, a checkerboard between them. They'd worked hard today and deserved their fun time before bed. There wasn't much time to be a kid at the end of the world. He pulled Carol down to sit between his legs and wrapped the poncho around them both as he pulled her back against his chest.

          It was hard to listen to Hershel's talk of planting crops or T-Dog's ideas of digging a canal under the fence for fresh water when he had a lap full of his wife. There was still no guarantee they would be able to make a temporary home there at the prison while they waited to see if Merle's plans would pan out. Everyone seemed to be more relaxed now they were behind fences, even out in the open yard. Carol smiled at Tori and Alex as they returned from the guard towers, having delivered dinner to Tessa, Brian, Miles and the sergeant, who were still on watch.

          Daryl looked over at Shane curiously. "Walsh, y' make out a watch schedule yet?"

          The deputy nodded, one arm around Andrea as he dug in the pocket of his jeans. "Yeah. I figured four-hour shifts would do. I got Randall, Rory, Glenn and Maggie on ten to two, you, Carol, me and Rick on two to six and then Lori, Andrea, Carl and Sophia on the morning shift."

          He couldn't help but notice the prideful tilt of his daughter's chin to be included in such an important job. "Sounds good," he grunted, returning his chin to Carol's shoulder.

          "Better all turn in. Got a big day tomorrow," Rick said, his gaze flickering to each member present around the fire.

          "What do you mean?" Glenn asked. He was ready for anything, but was curious as to what they'd be facing tomorrow.

          "Look … I know we're all exhausted and could probably benefit from a day to regroup and rest, but I think we're ready to push on," their leader explained. "Most of the walkers are dressed as guards and prisoners. Looks like this place fell pretty early. It could mean the supplies may be intact."

          "It would be great to have more supplies to add to what we brought with us," Andrea added.

          "Yeah, they'll have an infirmary, a commissary," Shane mused.

          "An armory." Daryl, of course, would think about their defenses first.

          Rick's gaze moved over the fence line. "That would be outside the prison itself, but not too far away. Warden's offices would have info on the location. Weapons, food, medicine. This place would be a goldmine."

          Lori grinned as her husband's arms tightened around her and he smacked a kiss to her cheek. "I don't know how we'll like sleeping in cells, but it's four walls and a roof, a place we can defend …"

          "A place we can make into a home," Carol added. She didn't care where they were as long as their family was intact.

          Hershel stroked a hand over his snowy white beard, his brow creased in a worried frown. "Despite our stores of ammo, taking the population of the prison into consideration, we'd run out before we made a dent."

          Rick sighed. "That's why we have to go in there … hand to hand. After all we've been through, and with our training, we can handle it. I know it. These assholes don't stand a chance."

          "Damn straight!"

          "Carl, language!"

          "Sorry, Mom."

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol's brows shot up in surprise as Patricia crouched between her and Lori and offered to take the kids for the night. "Are … are you sure?" she stammered, sharing a look with Lori.

          "It's gonna be a while before those two settle down enough to sleep, and me and Theodore don't mind their chatter a bit. It'll give the four of you a breather," the woman said in her soft Georgian accent.

          Both Rick and Daryl smirked slyly. "That's kind of you to offer, Patricia. Thank you," Rick accepted graciously, his head already spinning with thoughts of how he'd like to spend a private evening with his wife.

          Daryl gave her a nod in thanks as Carol slipped from his arms to hug the woman. "You're sure you don't mind? They can be a bit much."

          "Nothin' I can't handle."

          T-Dog climbed to his feet. "They ain't no trouble, Carol. They're good kids; got good parents." He called to the kids. "Grab your stuff, you two."

          Sophia put the checkerboard away and hurried over to her parents, plopping down onto her father's lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Y' be on your best behavior, baby girl. Y' got me?"

          "Yes, Daddy," she replied. "An' sleep with my knife under my pillow and my bow at my side. Don't worry; I got this."

          He pressed a kiss to her brow and ruffled her messy locks. "That's m' girl," he said proudly, sending her off into her mother's arms to say goodnight.

          Carol was still chuckling softly as she and Daryl found their way into their tent and collapsed together onto their bedroll. She nestled into his embrace with a contented sigh as he pulled their quilt up and tucked it around her shoulder. "Did you know Patricia and T were an item?" she asked as his hands roamed over her back and sides, trying to generate enough friction to warm her.

          Daryl shrugged. "Ain't m' business. I try t' stay outta all th' soap opera bullshit goes on around here. Had enough of it with Lori, Rick an' Shane at th' farm before they worked it out. Shane hookin' up with blondie didn't hurt none either."

          She leaned up on her elbow to look down at him where he was barely visible in the darkness. "Aren't you happy for them? Poor Patricia, I was worried for her after she lost Otis. And T has been such a good friend to her."

          "I dunno, woman," he growled irritably. "I ain't thought about it. I'm thinkin' y' jus' want everybody t' be as happy an' as in love as you are." His big hands circled her slender waist, pulling her across his chest so he could nip lightly at her neck. "Why don'tcha lemme make  _you_  happy an' stop worryin' about everybody else, hmm?"

          Carol sighed, her fingers creeping up his neck to tangle in the ends of his hair. "Oh, I do love the way my husband thinks," she smirked against his lips. "You gonna warm me up, Pookie, like you promised?"

          His hand latched onto the back of her thigh, reveling in the heat radiating through her yoga pants, and brought it up to curl over his hip as he rolled over with her. "I'm a man o' m' word, woman," he murmured, a low growl rumbling in his chest as she pulled him down to her lips. Already her deft fingers were working on the buttons of his flannel work shirt. Gawd, how easy it was to get lost in his precious wife.

          Carol broke their kiss, a furrow appearing between her brows. "Did you hear that?"

          Daryl's lips changed direction, trailing over the smooth curve of her jaw to tease at the sensitive pulse point beneath. "Ain't heard nothin'," he grumbled, irritated by her distraction.

          "I know I heard something," his wife insisted.

          The same noise resounded, and he wasn't able to ignore it this time, his head jerking up to stare at the nylon wall of the tent as his hand slipped beneath their pillows for his knife. "Th' fuck?!" His face twisted up first into a mask of confusion, followed by undisguised disgust. He looked down at Carol who had covered her mouth with both hands to try to muffle her giggles. "Y' hear that kinda shit on th' Discovery Channel. Th' hell is Andrea doin' t' th' poor man to get him t' make that sound?"

          Daryl rolled over onto his back and threw his arm over his eyes. Maybe it wouldn't last much longer …

          The moans and grunts from Shane and Andrea's tent were joined by the same from Rick and Lori's which sent Carol into more paroxysms of gleeful laughter. "Ain't funny, woman! If we can hear this shit, y' can bet your sweet ass our kids can too!"

          Carol scooted closer to her husband and rested her head on his chest. "Aw, Pookie, cut them some slack. We've all been crammed up in that house for weeks. You and I have been the only ones able to have any privacy because you were adamant about not sharing our basement with anyone aside from Sophia or Carl … and the children mostly stayed in the den with their friends. This is most likely the first time they've been alone with each other in a while."

          "Don't mean I wanna listen in, for fuck's sake! I'ma kill those marines for settin' up our tent right in th' middle o' this burlesque show!" Daryl lifted up the waistband on his cargos and let out an undignified little sound as he glanced at his flaccid cock. "Look, Carol. Prob'ly never get it up again," he groaned. "Every time I go t' touch y', I'ma think of those four havin' sex! Cockblocked by people who're s'posed t' be our friends."

          "Could have been worse," Carol murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

          "Pray tell … how could this possibly be worse?"

          "You could have walked in on them."

Daryl cursed and yanked the pillow over his head, hoping he could drown out the noises … and the mental images he now had to go along with them.

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl stood at the gate leading into the inner courtyard, securing his weapons for what seemed like the umpteenth time as he waited on the others. He was trying his damnedest to get his head in the game and focus on the upcoming purge instead of letting his worries for Carol and Sophia overwhelm him. The outer yard was secure, no breaches along the fences. Watch had been posted in the towers, and those left in the yard all had work to do. They would watch out for one another, for his girls. This purge of the inner courtyard was just another step to provide the group with a stable home. He wouldn't let them down. Rick and Shane were excited to move into the cellblocks, for once not at odds over a decision. Daryl didn't know whether he should take that as a bad omen or not.

          He was drawn from his reverie by a small hand on his arm. "Daddy? Can I talk to you for a minute before you and the others go inside?" his daughter asked, her troubled gaze meeting his.

          Daryl slung his crossbow onto his back and hugged her to his side, his large hand settling over her slender shoulder. "What's wrong, Soph? Y' worried? I toldja there ain't no reason t' be."

          She glanced behind her at the walkers milling around the courtyard behind the fence before she shot him a skeptical look. "There's about fifty geeks in there, Daddy … maybe more. Yes, there's reason to worry."

          He shot her a squinty-eyed look as he dropped to one knee so she wouldn't have to look up at him. "Y' don't trust me t' stay safe?"

          Sophia shook her head.  “No, it’s not that … but you’re going in there without Mama at your back.  I understand you wanting to protect her, it’s just … what if the others don’t look out for you like she does? Mama’s _your_ partner.  You’ve drilled it into me and Carl over and over again how important it is to look out for your partner, yet you’re not bring her in with you.”

          Daryl couldn't help the swell of pride which filled his chest at her words, to know how well she heeded his teachings. "I cain't take her into that, Sophia. I cain't put her at risk." He rubbed his hands over her arms, noticing the shiver which shook her lithe frame, offering her warmth and comfort. "I will be better focused if I know she's safe. Y' understand?"

          "I want you to be safe, too."

          He caught her as she threw herself into his arms and rested her head against his shoulder. "It's gonna be ok, baby girl. Rick, Shane, T-Dog, Glenn … I trust 'em t' do it right. We've trained together, fought together on runs. We can do this."

          Sophia's bright blue eyes glimmered with unshed tears as she pulled away. Without explanation, she unbuckled her belt and tugged her knife – sheath and all – from the leather. "Take my knife … for luck. It was the first one Merle ever gave me, and it hasn't failed me yet. Please, Daddy?"

          Daryl stared down at the ebony handled hunting knife in her hands, remembering the day he'd first taken them to the bunker after Ed had ruined Carol and Sophia's clothes. Oh, how far his girls had come since then. The corner of his mouth curled up into a half-moon grin. "An' whatcha gonna use if y' need it, hmm?"

          She pointed down to her boot where the knife Daryl had given her peeked out. "Always have a spare. It's the Dixon way. Never be caught off guard," she smirked.

          He shook his head, huffing a laugh as he stood. Unbuckling his belt, he slid the sheath holding her knife onto the leather to rest next to his own. "I'll bring it back t' y', Soph … promise."

          Sophia wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. "You better. I love you, Dad."

          Daryl dropped a kiss to his daughter's soft curls, catching Carol's gaze where she stood next to the fence watching them. "Love y', too, Sophia. Now, g'on an' find Lori. Make sure she's keepin' Carl outta trouble."

          He watched her go, his eyes soft as he tracked her movements over to where Lori stood with Rick and Carl. It seemed as if all their women were fraught with nerves over what the five of them were about to do. Maggie stood with Glenn, their hands clasped, their lips silent, simply saying with their eyes what they couldn't otherwise convey with words. Lori listened attentively as Rick tried to put her fears to rest. Patricia handed T-Dog a sharpened piece of rebar they'd brought from the colonial, warning him to be careful, and Andrea tried to hide her anxiety for Shane behind an over-bright smile. Time was short, he thought, his eyes seeking out his own wife and holding out his hand to her.

          Carol didn't hesitate to step into the circle of his arms, her hands fisting in the leather of his vest as she fought to stave off an onslaught of tears. His eyes remained open as he brought his lips to hers in the softest of kisses, unwilling to look away from her for even a moment. The rough pads of his thumbs traced over her cheekbones as he pulled away enough to rest his brow to hers. "Don't be scared. Trust me," he whispered, losing himself in the deep pools of her eyes.

          "I do, Daryl, with everything I am," she breathed airily against his lips. "I love you."

          "I love y', too, woman. Sometimes, there ain't words strong enough t' let y' know jus' how much."

          A muted whimper bubbled up from her throat as a lone tear trickled from her spiky lashes. "Don't you do that to me," she hissed. "It sounds too much like you're saying goodbye. You have to come back to me."

          "Y' know I will," he promised. "An' there ain't nothin' wrong with a man tellin' his wife how much she means t' him. Don't be scared, baby, please? Y' gonna be right there at the fence with Lori an' Andrea. Y' should have me in your sights th' whole time." He pressed another kiss to her trembling lips. "Don't be scared."

          Carol drew in a deep shuddering breath and willed her thundering heart to slow. "Don't worry about me, Daryl. Go in there and do what you do best. Take out the threat, and come back to me, to our daughter. Focus. And for the love of god … watch your back. I need you to stay safe. As much as I love every member of this group … you are my heart, Daryl Dixon."

          His fingers trailed lightly over the smooth curve of her jaw as he committed her face to his memory, all the love in the world shining in her eyes, her petal soft lips parted and curved into the barest hint of a smile, the sweet upturn of her button nose. "Ain't nobody ever loved me like you do," he whispered reverently.

          Her arms twined around his neck, her lips soft against the shell of his ear. "You're mine to love, and I will with my last breath." She spoke from her heart. It might sound sappy and sentimental to anyone else who might hear, but it was no less true, and what her husband needed to hear. "Now get your head in the game, baby, and make us proud."

          Daryl felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

          Rick cleared his throat and Daryl turned to find the others staring at him and Carol. "You ready to do this?"

          He let go of his wife, giving one last reassuring squeeze to her hand and marched to the gate to stand with the others, bow and knife ready in his hands. "Yeah, let's go. Game on!"

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: I hope y'all enjoyed the update. This was a fun chapter to write. Next time: The purge begins! The kids find their own brand of mischief. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! *hugs*


	59. Chapter 59

 

          Daryl took a deep breath and gave one last look over the group. Beth and Randall had been sent to the center tower for watch, needing only two – Rick had insisted for the mid-day shift – since no one was aware of their occupation of the prison as of yet. The marines were lined up on one side of the gate leading into the courtyard, Daryl wanting them to watch the purge and learn technique. The five going in now wouldn't try to take on the entire walker population by themselves. Despite the training Daryl had put them through over the last several weeks, he still wasn't sure they were ready. This would give them a demonstration they weren't likely to soon forget. Carol, Lori, Patricia, Maggie and Andrea stood to the left of the gate, armed with various weapons to pop walkers through the fence, though they seemed to be more nervous than the group of their men going in. Daryl couldn't bring himself to take that last long look at his wife. He was ready, his mind focused on the task before them.

          Rick took point on the right, Shane ready to cover his partner to the left a pace behind. Glenn and T-Dog stood ready just behind them, and Daryl would bring up the rear, covering their six. Their formation was good … as long as no one panicked. Hershel opened the gate at Rick's quiet command and the advance was on. Adrenaline flooded fast and furious through his veins, his head swimming in a thousand different directions before everything came together and he found his center. He could feel Carol's gaze on him, tempering and filling him with a strange peace.

          The former deputies went in strong, taking on the dead head on as T struck right, taking one out with his rebar lance. Glenn moved with an uneasy gait, hacking away with his machete, but soon found his groove, all the while watching out for the others. Daryl armed with bow and knife, bloodlust simmering just below his skin, worked to take out those closing in from behind.

          "Come on!" Rick commanded, urging the group forward, encouraged by how well the purge was going.

          Glenn felt a moment of panic as a gap opened up between himself and Shane on his right. "Get tight!" he warned, his blade sliding smoothly into the skull of one of the walkers in a blue jumpsuit identifying him as a prisoner.

          Maggie and Andrea were loud as they banged on the fence, doing their level best to attract walkers over to them and away from the men. "Come on, over here! Hey! Over here!" Carol took her eyes away from Daryl for a split second to pop one of the geeks through the fence, her knife finding a squelching home in its eye socket.

          The group continued to advance. "Don't break rank!" Shane called, glancing briefly over his shoulder to check on the others.

          Daryl cursed as T darted forward to retrieve a riot shield. "We need that!" the big man explained before resuming his position in their formation. The hunter was ready to smack him for breaking rank, but settled for taking out the walker wanting to make a meal out of him.

          Carol pulled Lori away from the fence, her arm slipping around her waist to steady her. Alexandra and Tori moved forward into their place and began the messy task immediately. "Breathe, Lori," Carol ordered. "Come on, deep breaths. They're fine, but if you decide to pass out here at the gate, it's going to distract them. Now suck it up, sweetie. You can do this."

          Lori huffed out a breathy laugh as her gaze swung to her friend. "Well, someone's channeling their inner Dixon this morning."

          She hugged Lori to her side and grinned. "Considering you're not pasty white any longer, I'd say it worked."

          The purge group shored up into a tighter formation as they approached the inner courtyard where they could see more than two dozen geeks milling behind the fence. Rick had them fall back against a part of the building which jutted out from the main block. There were four guards – or what had been guards at one time – in full riot gear.

          Daryl fired a bolt which bounced harmlessly off the armor. "Well, fuck!" he cursed quietly, his gaze flitting furiously as he looked more closely for an opening.

          Lori held tightly to her knife as she edged closer to the gate. "I can't see them. Can you see them?! Carol! Where are they?!"

          "They're there," she assured the brunette. "Back there around the corner. Listen and you can hear bodies hitting the concrete."

          As the crowd of geeks began to thin, the group was able to loosen the formation. T-Dog, fueled with a new burst of adrenaline, worked furiously, pushing back the walkers with his shield before spearing them with his rebar lance. It enabled Daryl to move forward, slamming the stock of his bow into the head of one and then finish it with his knife.

          "Daryl!" Rick bellowed, knocking one of the armored walkers to the ground while slashing at another. Daryl advanced quickly to his side, rushing for the open gate to the fenced in courtyard. Rick brought up his boot, landing a swift kick to the lone walker making his way towards his live meal, sending him sprawling back into several others. Together, they managed to get the gate closed and secured.

          Shane, Glenn and T-Dog battled together to take out the remaining guard walkers, becoming frustrated when they weren't able to do much damage through the heavy riot armor. It was Shane, with a quick upward thrust beneath the guard's chin, who discovered the weakness. "See that?! Hot damn!" he whooped. T joined in his excitement as he and Glenn set off together to take out those remaining. Daryl finished off the last one with a knife to the base of its skull.

          They all took a moment to look around and catch their breath, standing there underneath the gated catwalk above them where it offered a bit of shade. They were covered in blood and bits of nastiness, weary but inwardly jubilant to have met with such success.

          "Stop," Rick called out to Glenn as the young man took a step towards the gate, anxious to let the others know they'd cleared the courtyard.

          Glenn frowned. "Well, it looks secure."

          Daryl shook his head. "Not from th' look of that courtyard over there." He pointed to one of the walkers littering the concrete, a woman in a pink frock. "And that's a civilian."

          T-Dog clucked his tongue in disgust. "So, the interior could be overrun with walkers from outside the prison."

          "We already knew we'd be facing something like this with that breach to the rear. Looks like a bomb went off back there," Shane added.

          "What are we going to do?" Glenn asked. "We can't rebuild this whole place."

          "We can renovate as we're able. We've talked about this," Rick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But right now, we have to secure a block; we have to push in. After we do that and get our people settled, we can discuss how we can shore up any breaches from the inside."

          "A'right," Daryl agreed, which was enough to get them moving again. "We're wastin' daylight standin' around here." The group advanced as one across the courtyard, stepping over the bodies of the dead until they reached a caged stairwell. It led to a metal sliding door. Rick took point as Daryl slid it open, ready for whatever they might encounter.

          The silence which greeted them was eerie, a shiver tripping along the hunter's spine as Shane closed the door behind them. Rick swung the barred door inward, and proceeded down a short set of steps cautiously, weapons raised, into what appeared to be a common room. They split up to search the room. Rick pointed upwards to the control room and set off up the metal staircase, trying to be as silent as possible. There he found one of the guards who seemed to have died from a headshot when the prison fell, and the inmates had been rioting. Luckily, he also came up with a set of keys.

          The former deputy hurried down the stairs and motioned for the others to follow as he let them into the cell block. Daryl took point, taking a wide berth around the cell doors as he peered into one after the other, making his way to the other end to make sure the barred door was secure. Paper, clothes, litter and debris were scattered over the concrete floor, and though many of the cells were empty, others contained the bodies of prisoners who'd been put down in the chaos. Daryl preceded Rick up to the second floor, turning left as a sound had his sharp ears pricking.

          The hunter inched along the catwalk, sticking close to the railing as he peered into the shadowed cells. His skin hummed with anxiety, that itch just beneath the surface which made him long to be near his wife. He needed her soothing presence to rid him of the ache building behind his breastbone. A sweet kiss and gentle touch of her hand would be his reward today for a job well done. He leaned back, his hip pressing into the railing as skeletal arms reached through the bars and a desiccated face pressed against them, snapping and snarling for his blood. Rick followed his lead as Daryl continued onward, encountering more.

          "They'll be easy t' get rid of," the hunter shrugged, "all locked up as they are."

          “It’ll be those roaming the corridors that’ll give us hell.”  Rick huffed out a sigh and turned back, knife in hand, to rid them of the unwanted pests. Finally, he leaned over the railing and whistled for the others. "We're clear. Probably going to take us the rest of the day to get this place livable, so Glenn … go on out and tell everyone else it's safe to come inside."

          Daryl slung his bow onto his back and leaned in next to his friend. "Our wives ain't gonna be too happy about th' mess."

          Rick clapped the hunter on his shoulder and shook his head with a wry grin. "Yeah … let's just hope Lori remembered to pack some bleach. We're gonna need it."

 

*.*.*

 

          The group gathered around the fence leading into the courtyard breathed a collective sigh of relief to see Glenn heading their way. Carol was trying her damnedest to hold it together, to show support for Lori who was a basket of nerves. Maggie threw open the gate as he approached and didn't hesitate to begin checking him over for bites or injuries.

          "Is Rick ok? The others? What's happening?" Lori said in a rush, her grip on Carol's hand bordering on painful.

          Glenn slipped an arm around Maggie as she sagged against him, weak with relief. "Everyone's fine. We managed to clear out one section of C-Block, so at least we won't have to sleep outside tonight. It's going to need some work though."

          "Carl, Sophia," Carol called, grasping on to the needs of the group and asserting her authority. "Fetch Beth and Randall from the tower and go out to the trucks to gather the cleaning supplies we brought from the colonial. Bleach, buckets, brushes, brooms, whatever we have. We need to have this done by nightfall."

          "Miles, Cam! Go with the kids and watch their backs," Tori barked at her Marines. She stepped closer to her new friends, seeing the conflict on each of their faces. How she remembered feeling the same for her own husband. "Carol, I'm going to get the truck brought around … see about getting some of these bodies cleared out." She rested her hand on Carol's shoulder, meeting her wide azure gaze. "Go, we've got this. You're not going to feel better until you see he's ok with your own eyes."

          Carol smiled with genuine relief. "Thank you, Tori. It means a lot to me."

          She waved a dismissive hand. "It's nothing," she scoffed. "I'll make sure the kids get back to you quickly, and then my group can work on getting rid of the bodies while yours gets started on the inside. Soon as we're done here, we'll come in to help."

          Tori watched the women move off to follow Glenn before she turned to her people. "Alright, ladies!" she barked, addressing the Marines. "Snap to! I want these bodies dumped next to the ones cleared out of the yard last night. You have two hours!"

          There was a resounding "Yes, ma'am" from the four men as the sergeant shared a sly grin with his girl. Alexandra returned it, happy to see Tori resembling more of her old self. She had a purpose again, but without all the weight falling to her shoulders. Jamie and his men jogged down to slip through the fences to retrieve the truck they'd used yesterday for corpse removal. As he slid behind the wheel, he was still wearing a smile. They were fitting in well with the new group … they were going to be just fine. He was going to make sure of it.

          Carol held onto Lori as they maneuvered their way around the dead walkers littering the courtyard, not wanting her to take a tumble and perhaps harm the baby. She'd never forgive herself. She could hear Daryl in her head, scolding her for feeling responsible for every member of the group when she shouldn't be taking it all upon herself, but she couldn't help it. They were her family and she loved them. She eyed the geeks trapped behind another fence as they growled and reached for them as they passed, but she could see they were no danger to them at present. Her mind was awhirl with things which needed to be done, but none of it was important enough to take her mind off her husband and whether or not he was truly well. She didn't think Glenn would lie to them about the well-being of their men, but it was as Tori had stated … Carol wouldn't be able to take an easy breath until she could see Daryl with her own eyes.

          She vaguely glanced around the small common room before she was nudged to the side by Andrea and Patricia. The blonde hardass marched directly up to Shane and simply rested her hand on his shoulder, her clear blue gaze rising to meet his. He looped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her brow.

          T-Dog stood, quiet and patient, as Patricia's hands fluttered over him checking for injury. "You get bit? Scratched? Are you sure you're ok?" she asked, her voice strained with emotion. She'd lost her husband; she didn't want to lose T too.

          The big man took her hands in his and dropped a kiss to each of her palms before holding them close to his chest. "I'm fine, 'Tricia. Don't get all upset when you can see I'm ok." She leaned in closer to him, resting her head on his wide chest, and Carol could see a solitary tear trail over the woman's cheek.

          Rick hurried over to his wife and gathered her close. He could see her worry – the pregnancy hormones amping them up dramatically – and did his best to soothe her. Which left Carol standing there next to the open cell door leading into the block where her husband waited for her, his smoky blue gaze speaking volumes.

          Daryl met her halfway, catching her trembling form and crushing her to his chest. He didn't know what to say, his emotions all over the place. It had been harder than he'd expected to go into a fight without her at his back, and the feel of his arms around her, the way she clung to him as if he was her whole world; it was indescribable. He hadn't thought he could love her more than the day he'd proposed, back on the farm with the moonlight shining down upon them through the trees, but he was wrong. So wrong. It seemed his love for her grew with each passing day, and it was something he didn't know how to deal with. But, by god, he'd learn.

          Carol tucked her head into the crook of his neck and breathed him in, reveling in his natural scent beneath the decay of walker stench. Her hand dipped beneath the vee of his sleeveless shirt and stroked his warm skin, feeling the slight shiver which ran through him at her touch. "You were amazing out there. It's not often I just get to stand around and watch you like that." She dragged in a deep shuddering breath, letting the fear drain out of her. She didn't want him to see how frightened she'd been.

          He blushed at her praise, but of course, Daryl could see right through her ploy. "Why don'tcha tell me how y' really feel?" he growled lowly, his scruff tickling the shell of her ear.

          Carol snorted. "I was terrified! I don't think I'll ever see you surrounded by walkers and not be scared to death. I don't care how skilled you are."

          Daryl tilted her chin up and brushed his lips to hers. "I'll always come back t' you, baby. Breathe. Let it go, a'right."

          She grinned up at his concern. "I'm ok … gotta be. Just another day at  _Chez Apocalypse_."

          "Where's our daughter?" he asked when his searching gaze didn't find Sophia anywhere in their new home.

          "She, Carl, Beth and Randal went with a few of the Marines to get our cleaning supplies from the trucks, Tessa and Rory are on watch, and Tori and the rest of her crew are handling corpse removal," she answered, bringing him up to speed.

          "M' sorry this place is such a mess. Figured it was gonna be bad though with what th' yard looked like when we got here."

          Carol patted the center of his chest. "Don't worry, it's nothing we can't handle."

          "We were talkin' … tomorrow, we're gonna search th' Warden's office an' see if we can't find th' location of th' armory an' anythin' else useful. Then we're gonna push further in." He waited with bated breath for her questions, surprised when she just nodded. "Y' ok with that?"

          "If we're going to make this a home, we have to make sure there are no walkers which are going to sneak into the cell block while we're asleep. It has to be done. There's no sense in arguing with you, either. I know you have to be in the middle of the action. It's just who you are, Daryl."

          His mouth dropped open at her acceptance before he realized … "Y' ain't goin' down there with us."

          Carol sighed. "Yeah, I knew you were going to say that, too. I'm not going to fight you on it. You'll be better able to focus if you know I'm safely tucked away up here in the cells. Sophia on the other hand -"

          Daryl puffed up like a wet banty rooster. "She ain't goin' down there neither!"

          Carol brushed her lips along his bristled jaw and shot him a gamine-like grin. "Then I hope you have a set of keys handy, because you'll have to lock her in a cell to stop her from running after her Daddy."

          His wife was still chuckling softly as she flounced away to join the other women, leaving him grumbling behind and wondering what he was going to do with his head-strong daughter.

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol winced as she stretched, her back snapping and popping from the strain. It had been a lot of work to get the common room and cell block cleaned, and her body was showing its irritation. Apparently, scrubbing walker guts on your hands and knees was more taxing than a good old-fashioned fight for your life, she thought sulkily. At least the stench of decay no longer permeated the block, but rather bleach and pine sol. The courtyard was another matter, but not pressing. A good rain would help to wash it clean now that the bodies had been removed.

          Alexandra and Kayla had rebuilt the fire they'd used the previous evening down in the outer yard, preferring to cook outdoors rather than waste sterno on their camp stove which had been set up in the common room. It was simple fare. The girls had found some cans of meat flavored canned spaghetti sauce and had served it over some of their stores of elbow macaroni. Packaged pasta was still an easy enough find on a run. Carol had cut Lori's workload in half, having her supervising the children and boiling water from the stream next to the prison for consumption. She was hoping she'd be able to snare a containerful to wash with later.

          Pausing mid-stretch, her eyes latched onto her husband on the upper level as he dragged another mattress from the far end of the block and deposited it on the perch. Curious as to what he could possibly be up to, she slowly climbed the metal stairs to join him. There were four mattresses – two on the bottom with two more resting atop them – and he was working a fitted sheet onto them. It was one which would fit a queen which Lori and Patricia had brought all the way from the farm. Carol's thick yellow and white quilt was folded nearby.

          Carol frowned. "Pookie? Um … what are you doing?"

          Daryl didn't even glance up at her question. "What's it look like, woman? I'm makin' th' bed."

          "Something wrong with the cells?"

          "Ain't sleepin' in no cage, Carol. The perch'll do jus' fine for us." There was a story there, Carol was sure of it. She could tell by the way he gnawed at his lower lip and averted his gaze, but she wasn't going to push. It was better when he opened up on his own. "'Sides, I can keep a better watch out here."

          "Not much privacy, though," she reasoned as she dropped down to sit next to him atop their freshly made bed.

          He shrugged. "Not like we can do anything here with everyone piled on top o' each other anyway." He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and let the ghost of a smile play at his lips. "But once we get this place cleared out, I'm sure we can find some place t' be alone."

          "It doesn't matter. As long as we're together." She looked around their new surroundings and frowned as she noticed only two packs. "Where is Sophia's pack? Isn't she going to sleep here with us?"

          Daryl shook his head. "She said something about wantin' t' bunk with Beth."

          Carol arched a suspicious brow. "Did you check?"

          "Well, why would I have t' –" His head swung around to his daughter's cell where Carl stood leaning against the barred door. "Oh, hell no!"

          His wife crossed her arms over her chest and smirked. "As much as I love Carl and Sophia's friendship, I really don't think they need to be bunking together. And if Carl is planning on bunking with Sophia, then I'm sure Randall is thinking he'll be bunking with Beth, and we really don't need Hershel losing his mind over his baby girl."

          Daryl was on his feet before she'd finished her sentence, stalking over to the cell his daughter had chosen for herself. Carl yelped as Daryl's hand clamped onto the back of his neck. "Th' hell's goin' on in here?"

          Sophia bounded up from where she was sitting on the bottom bunk, her face flushed with embarrassment. "Nothing, Daddy! We were just talking."

          His eyes narrowed between her and the boy. "Talkin' huh?" he growled, refusing to relinquish his hold on Carl. "Well, talkin' is for th' bright light o' day in th' common room,  _NOT_  in your cell when everybody's beddin' down for th' night."

          "We've done it plenty of times!"

          "Yeah, but y' weren't alone. Y' were with others."

          Sophia planted her hands on her hips and glared at her father. "Daddy, are we going to have to have that talk again?"

          Daryl pointed a finger in her direction. "We'll have this conversation as many times as we got t', Sophia Lynn. Until it finally sinks into that stubborn head o' yours. Now, get your ass out there an' talk t' your mama while I deal with this mess!"

          Her eyes widened when he used her middle name – something he'd never done before. She hadn't even thought he knew her middle name. She shot an apologetic glance Carl's way and hurried over to where her mother was waiting for her on the perch.

          Carl swallowed audibly. "We didn't mean no harm by it, Daryl, I swear. I was gonna sleep on the top bunk."

          Daryl reached down to scoop up Carl's pack and then marched him down the catwalk towards the cell where he was sure to find Randall and Beth. He dropped his hold on the boy's neck to cover Carl's eyes when he found the two teenagers locked in a kiss. _Fuckin' hellfire!_ "Randall!"

          The two jumped apart as if someone had lit them on fire – and not in a good way.

          "Beth, grab your shit and get your ass down there to bunk with Sophia where I can keep my eye on you two." His eyes were frigid as a fjord in January as they locked onto Randall. "And  _you_ ," he spat. "You come with me."

          Beth blushed scarlet and grabbed her belongings, keeping her head down as she slipped out of the cell to do as she'd been told.

          Daryl didn't wait for the boys to follow. They knew better than to disobey a direct order from him. Sophia hung her head guiltily as he passed and headed down the stairs. He didn't stop his angry stride until he came to stand between the two cells which housed Hershel and his makeshift clinic, and the one shared by Rick and Lori. "Rick, Hershel," he called, trying for a calm tone and failing admirably. "Need t' talk t' y'all a minute."

          Rick stepped outside of his cell, a towel slung around his neck where he'd been trying to clean up. "Something wrong, Daryl?" Hershel silently stepped to the door of his cell and waited patiently, giving Daryl the time he needed to reveal his upset.

          "Wrong!? Y' could say that. I just found this one upstairs makin' out with your youngest, Hershel," he hissed, shoving Randall forward a few steps. "And this one thinkin' he was gonna share a cell with  _my_  twelve-year-old daughter!"

          "What?!"

          "I beg your pardon?"

          Nothing like overprotective fathers.

          Daryl paced belligerently before the others. "We need t' keep them separated. I got Beth and Sophia in the cell across from my perch where I can keep an eye on 'em, but we need t' get these two settled down here. Need y' t' find someone who'll be willing t' take th' cell on th' second floor. I know for damn sure they ain't gonna sneak past me up them stairs."

          Further down the block, Andrea was giggling softly behind her hand. "Shane and I will take it, Daryl," she offered a second before Shane dragged her into the cell and she let go with a full-blown belly laugh. "Oh, my god, Shane! Did you see Daryl's face?" She went off again when he tried to shush her. "Papa Dixon!"

          Shane shot all three fathers an apologetic look and ducked back into the cell to gather their belongings.

          Rick swiped a hand over his face and groaned in frustration. "Son, what were you thinking? I know you and Sophia are close, but –"

          "Dad, seriously?! It's not like that! We were just talking. I'm twelve for hell's sake!"

          Randall swallowed nervously as Hershel speared him with a disapproving gaze. "Beth is eighteen, and though I can't tell her who she's allowed to fall in love with, I cannot condone a frivolous relationship between you and have her find herself in trouble."

          "S-Sir, it was just a goodnight kiss. I would never disrespect her or her w-wishes," he stammered. "She's the sweetest girl I've ever met, and I don't want to mess that up. Y'all gave me a chance when you could just have easily killed me. Y'all made me part of a family, sir, and I don't take that lightly."

          Hershel stared him down, making the boy sweat. "If that's true, then I expect you to act like a gentleman instead of someone I have to worry about stealing her virtue. You've only known each other a short time, therefore if you're serious, and can prove yourself, I will consider giving my blessing."

          Daryl groaned and shot Randall a disgusted look. In his opinion, the farmer was going far too easy on the boy. He gave both the boys a death glare before he stalked back to the stairs to deal with his daughter. And there she sat in the shelter of her mother's arms, looking sad and dejected. His heart melted at the picture she presented. It made him want to hug her. He could practically hear Merle in his head calling him a pussy. When had he let her wrap him so securely around her finger?

          Instead he crossed his arms over his chest and bit his lip … hard. "Sophia, I'm not mad."  _Wait! What?! That's not what I was going to say, damnit!_

          Her head popped up and a glimmer of hope shone in her eyes. "You're not?"

          "No, but I  _am_  disappointed." He sighed. This wasn't going well. He was sure Carol would approve, but he'd catch hell if Merle ever got wind of this. "We need t' set some … um … boundaries."

          "Are you going to separate me and Carl? Make it where we're not partners anymore?" she cried, fighting to hold back her tears.

          Daryl shook his head and winced. How could she think he'd ever hurt her that way? "What good would that do? Y'all work together better than any other pair in this group. Naw, I'm not gonna separate y'.  _BUT,_ if y' wanna spend time together, y' do it in the common room or in the courtyard where someone can keep an eye on y'. Jus' 'cause y' don't like boys now don't mean y' won't in a year or two an' it's m' job t' make sure y' don't end up with a baby at sixteen. Y' hear me?"

          Sophia looked at her mother. "Can someone literally die of embarrassment, Mama?" she asked, burying her face in the crook of Carol's neck.

          Carol helped her daughter to her feet. "Come on, baby, and I'll tuck you in. You know your father is only worried about you."

          Daryl collapsed down onto their bed and pulled a pillow over his head. He felt drained, and just wanted to curl up next to his wife and sleep for a bit. Didn't they have enough problems in this new world without worrying about teen angst? He'd take on a herd single-handedly any day.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Poor Daryl. He's got his hands full with those kids. I hope you all enjoyed it. Hope y'all love this fic as much as I do. Special shoutout to Geektaire. She saved me this week when I really needed a friend. You're the best, love! And if you haven't read her MacDixon series, y'all are REALLY missing out! Next time: Marty finds out some shocking news.


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: I’m so sorry I didn’t post yesterday. I had an eye appointment and they had to dilate my eyes. That crap is miserable! There’s nothing worse for a writer/reader/editor than being unable to see the words on the screen. But I’m all better now, so here is an update for you wonderful people :D

          Merle Dixon frowned into his pillow, his hand creeping across the sheets in search of his woman.  _His woman._  A smile curled up at the corners of his wide mouth as he thought of Martine. He and Daryl had grown up with her and her brothers inasmuch as they could with Jackson Dixon for a father. They'd played together, fought together – Gawd knew that girl could brawl with the best of them – discovered their raging hormones and all sorts of vices to share together. Why had he never seen she was the one woman who could tame him? Maybe he  _had_  seen and that's why he'd never allowed himself to take her seriously. She was that special blend of sweet and sassy with a take-no-shit attitude he'd been missing in his life.

          He'd wasted so much time chasing one woman after another to and from his bed, living the high life, or so he'd believed, when it was her he needed so badly to bring balance to his damaged soul. It had taken an apocalypse and the thought he'd lost her there that day at the bunker to make him see. Much like it had taken Mouse to break through the walls his brother had erected around his heart. Now it was positively nauseating to see those two in the same room together. Might catch some of those feelings they were constantly bandying about.

          He scowled darkly when his hand encountered only cool sheets. He flipped over onto his back and blinked into the dimness of their bedroom, the first rays of dawn peeking from behind the lace curtains Marty had hung in the windows. "Sugar?" he called softly. The walls were paper thin in their building and he didn't want to disturb Martinez on the one side of them and Abe and Rosita on the other. "Sugar, where are y'?"

          It was then the faint sound of her retching filtered in from the bathroom. He yanked his jeans up, only bothering with the zipper as his feet pounded down the hall to the bathroom next to the spare bedroom. He winced as he slung the door open to see her heaving up the contents of her stomach. Merle dropped to his knees beside her, gathering up her long ebony hair in his fist. Marty sagged limply back against his chest as she flushed the toilet.

          "Aw, darlin', what's wrong with y'?" he asked, his voice quavering a bit as he held her gently, her petite form trembling against him.

"I would think it was obvious, Merle." She shot him a glare before her face crumbled and she buried her face against his chest. She whimpered pitifully and swallowed, trying her best to stop her churning stomach from another revolt. "Musta been somethin' I ate. Y' know how iffy it can be jus' tryin' t' get a decent meal around this place."

          Merle could feel the first faint stirrings of panic tightening his chest, which wasn't like him at all. He was the more level-headed of the brothers. It was Daryl who barreled blindly into things, letting his temper goad him into trouble. At least before he'd found Carol. Mouse had a way of soothing his inner beast. But this was all new territory for Merle. Something was wrong with his woman … something he couldn't shoot or stab or drop off a cliff to eliminate the threat … and for the first time in his life, he was truly afraid.

          "How long's this shit been goin' on?"

          Marty shrugged. "I dunno. Couple days? A week?"

          "A week!?" he shrieked, his voice high-pitched enough to have her looking at him worriedly. He was seconds away from a full-blown panic attack as he thought back over the last week. His woman had been more tired than usual, but with their active schedules, it was to be expected. She'd been sleeping more, and her appetite hadn't been all that great, but he'd blown it off, thinking she was letting her fears for their family affect her physically. If it had progressed to where she was pitching her guts up every morning, maybe it was more serious than he'd originally thought. His arms tightened reflexively around her as she moved to get off his lap. "Y' need t' see th' doc."

          Marty pinched his side, gaining her release. She pulled herself up and ran some cool water into a cup to rinse her mouth out. "Would y' stop, Dixon? Y' ever think I might be tired? We've been runnin' ourselves ragged since we got here. That on top o' somethin' bad I ate, an' here we are. I'll be fine." She pushed her hair back away from her face and ignored the paleness of her usual peaches and cream skin. For the umpteenth time, she told herself it was nothing. She'd never been keen on doctors before the turn, and now was no different. "I jus' need some sleep, s'all."

          His breathing hitched, his heart thundered, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as she reached for her toothbrush. "You … woman! Y' health ain't nothin' t' be foolin' around with!"

          Marty met his eyes in the mirror and continued to clean her teeth, her eyes narrowing obstinately. "Merle, prease," she mumbled around a mouthful of toothpaste. "I'll be frine. Y' need t' cralm th' fruck down."

          Merle opened and closed his mouth several times, feeling like a damn fish flopping around on the dock. Finally, he dragged some much-needed oxygen into his lungs and straightened his shoulders with newfound determination. Without a word, he stalked out of the bathroom and returned to their room. He shoved his feet into his boots as he was pulling a t-shirt over his head. He barely remembered to button his pants and yank on his leather jacket before grabbing the thick down duvet off the bed and marching back to the bathroom.

          Marty had just dried her face on a hand towel and switched off the light when she was enveloped in warmth and lifted off her feet. She fought her arm out of the blanket and shoved it out of her face. "What th' hell are y' doin', Merle!?" she screeched, wriggling to free herself.

          "Takin' y' t' th' damn doc, woman! Y' can shout th' whole o' Woodbury down for all I care, but y' goin'!" He struggled with the door as she closed her eyes, fighting off another wave of dizziness. Then he was bouncing her hurriedly down the stairs and into the deserted street.

          She clung to his broad shoulders despite her anger, terrified he'd drop her. "Merle … baby, please! This isn't necessary. I toldja it's jus' somethin' I ate or a bug goin' around." Which was the worst thing she could have said at that point.

          "A bug?! What if it's catchin'?" he asked in a horrified whisper as he entered the clinic. "What if everybody gets this crap? We'll have a fuckin' epidemic on our hands!"

          Marty groaned and pulled the blanket up over her head. There was no reasoning with him when he got like that. She simply resigned herself to the horrid thought of a medical exam and shut up. She didn't even emerge from her cocoon when the nurse practitioner, who helped Dr. Stevens, rushed out to greet them.

          "Mr. Dixon! Who –"

          "M' woman … she's sick. Need y' t' help her, Miss Linda," Merle cut her off, dredging up some manners for the little strawberry blonde nurse in her fifties who'd never been anything but nice to them.

          "You neanderthal," Marty huffed from beneath the blanket.

          The woman smiled indulgently at Merle and motioned for him to follow her to one of the makeshift exam rooms. "Everything is going to be fine, Mr. Dixon. Can you tell me what symptoms she's presenting?" she asked as he laid Martine down on the table.

          "Toldja, Miss Linda … call me Merle."

          "Out! If I gotta be subjected t' an exam, you can wait outside," Marty snapped, cutting him off.

          "But, Sugar!"

          "Don't patronize me, Dixon. Now, git!"

          Linda smiled patiently at him and rested a hand on his arm as she led him to the door. "Martine seems rather agitated. Perhaps it would be best if you just had a seat out in the waiting room. It shouldn't take long and then you can come right back in."

          Merle shot a pained look over his shoulder to where Marty was staring sightlessly at the opposite wall. He could tell by her posture she was angry, but also frightened. He needed to be with her, to hold her hand and reassure her that everything would be alright. Gawd, what was happening to him? "What if she needs me? She ain't much on doctorin'."

          "I promise if she does, I'll come get you." Linda patted him on the shoulder. "Not to worry, Mr. Dixon, I'll take good care of her."

          Marty stared down at her hands where they fidgeted with a loose thread on the blanket she was still wrapped in as Linda shut the door on Merle. "I'm sorry we disturbed y' so early this mornin'. I'm sure it's nothin' an' Merle is jus' overreactin'."

          Linda smiled gently. She'd always liked the brash redneck woman who had a gentle side she liked to keep hidden. "Well, we're going to find out for sure, ok? Don't worry, Martine. Now … can you tell me what seems to be the trouble?"

          Marty sighed and glanced at the woman, pushing down her fears as she met Linda's kind hazel eyes. It was so hard for her to trust. The Dixon brothers – now that her own family had perished – were where she drew the line. Yet, something about this woman encouraged her to take a chance. "I dunno. Been tired a lot lately, ain't had much of an appetite either. Last couple days I been nauseated."

          "Any vomiting?"

          "Yeah, that's what freaked Merle out this mornin'," she grumbled. "I think I mighta ate somethin' bad. Or it could be stress from the job. Merle says I tend t' stretch myself too thin."

          "It's possible," Linda offered, making several notations on the chart she'd started for Marty. "When was your last cycle?"

          Martine sucked in a sharp breath as a tremor of fear tripped up her spine. Her lip trembled as the nurse looked up at her expectantly. "I … uh … what?" she stammered, her heart beginning to race. Her mind shut down for a moment and everything was calm. All about two milliseconds before her entire world came crashing down around her feet. The nurse – bless her for even being up at that hour – was oblivious to Marty's inner turmoil. The word  _No_ kept repeating through her mind with the speed of an Amtrak.  _What am I goin' t' do with a baby?_ She groaned.  _What's Merle gonna say? Is he even gonna want me t' have it?_

          "Marty, dear? Did you hear me?" Linda asked, concern furrowing her brow.

          "Uh … yeah. 'Bout six weeks ago, maybe?" she answered listlessly. She remembered it clearly, certain it had been around the time she, Merle and Caesar had visited Daryl at the farm. Merle had wrapped her up in a blanket and pulled her onto his lap in the back of the jeep because she'd felt as if every muscle in her body were splintering apart. As much as she suffered with her periods, how could she just not notice when one didn't show up? Maybe …  _Oh, God, please!_  Maybe, her lack of cycle was due to poor nutrition or sleep deprivation. It had been known to happen before, she tried to convince herself.

          Linda asked her more questions, constantly making notes on the chart and then took her vitals. She left Marty alone for just a moment to go to the supply cabinet, coming back with a home pregnancy test. Marty pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes to quell the onslaught of panicked tears which stung her eyes, but she wasn't quite quick enough to stifle the choked sob which burst past her lips. "Oh, honey, don't cry. You're a healthy woman in her thirties. And bunking with that man of yours … well, these things are bound to happen." Martine buried her face against the woman's shoulder and let the tears flow. "Don't cry, sweetheart. There's no need for tears until you take the test. And then I don't know what you're worried about. Merle Dixon doesn't look the type who would turn his back on the woman he loves  _or_  his unborn child."

          Marty sniffled and took the tissue Linda offered. "Of course, not. Family means everythin' t' Merle," she mumbled quietly.

          "There's a restroom at the end of the hall you can use, Martine. Why don't you go on and take that test while I have a few words with your husband?"

          "He's not –"

          "Oh, I know, dear, but who's to say that doesn't change in the foreseeable future?" Linda said with a warm smile. Marty couldn't help but feel a warm glow settle in her chest at the thought of Merle Dixon being hers in such a permanent way.

          "Please, don't tell 'im anythin'."

          Linda patted her hand reassuringly. "That's for you to decide. I wouldn't want to break confidence, now would I?"

          Marty nodded to Merle as she stepped out of the room, hiding the box in the folds of her flannel pajama top as she trekked down the hall to use the bathroom. She leaned back against the door, anxious tears streaming over her face as she listened to the worry in Merle's voice as he questioned the nurse practitioner. Was she going to be alright? What was wrong with her? He told the woman he'd do anything, search anywhere – and the unspoken  _kill anything_  – to get Marty whatever it was she needed. If she'd ever doubted his love for her before, she didn't now. She stared down at the box in her hand as visions of a little one with her ebony hair and Merle's crystal blue eyes flitted across her mind's eye.

          She bit her lip, praying she could keep quiet. She didn't need Merle to hear her crying. Why now?! Things were so precarious for them in their bid for Woodbury. One little misstep and they could lose everything. If she were pregnant … Oh, gawd, what might Blake do if he found out? She wouldn't put anything past that man. But she wasn't going to find out if she remained frozen against the door. One way or the other, she had to know.

          Half an hour later, Merle had her comfortably entrenched in a mound of pillows and blankets on the sofa in their apartment with strict orders for her not to move. She felt as if she were in shock. A baby. A little Dixon. The  _littlest_  Dixon, she thought, her mind in a fugue. A tiny little person wrought from the love she shared with Merle. She winced as she listened to him putter about the kitchen fixing her something to drink. Linda had tried to soothe her fears, and as much as Marty appreciated her efforts, the woman had no idea the true scope of danger this baby was in. She was Martine Comeaux. She was no shrinking violet … not by a long shot. Blake would never lay a hand on her child, on Merle's son. She didn't care what she had to do, but she would protect him.

          Marty smiled up at Merle as he dropped down to sit beside her on the sofa. "Well, look at y'," she said, a teasing lilt to her voice far from what she was feeling. "Bein' all domestic. Who woulda thought?"

          Dixon snorted. "Jus' tea, Sugar. Miss Linda said it might help settle y' stomach." He set the cup in her hands, his own clenching on his lap. "Y' gonna tell me now what she had t' say, or am I gonna have t' guess?"

          She sipped carefully at the herbal tea, giving herself time to get her thoughts together. "Everything's jus' fine. Apparently, whatever it was that disagreed with me is workin' it's way outta m' system. I'll be good as new by the weekend," she lied, the words bitter on her tongue. She just couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth. It would shift his focus, and they were too close to success to have it all fall apart now. Martine knew him too well. He would pack her up and run to join up with their family. It would begin a war between their group and Woodbury, and not all of them would survive it.

          "Thank Gawd!" he huffed, his entire body seeming to shake with relief. He took the cup from her and set it down on the coffee table before pulling her into his arms. "I'll jus' have t' make sure y' get better food t' eat. I'll take Paco an' Ty an' see if we cain't get y' some fresh meat t' go with all those vegetables growin' on th' back five. Karen an' some o' her ladies were crowin' th' other day 'bout a new crop o' broccoli an' spinach."

          Marty bit her lip as she hid her face against his chest. "Fresh produce is always good. See if'n y' can get me some potatoes. What I wouldn't do for some fresh red potatoes," she mumbled, trying to sound as normal as possible.

          Merle stroked a big weathered hand over her silky locks and pressed a kiss to her brow. "Y' scared me, woman. I ain't never felt so helpless."

          She leaned back as far as he'd let her and stared up into his tortured gaze. "I'll be ok. It's gonna take a lot more than a little food poisonin' t' get th' best o' me. Y' should know that." Her hands cradled his stubbled jaw as she drew him closer, her lips brushing his in a sweet kiss. "I'm not gonna leave y', Merle. Long as I draw breath, as long as y' want me … I'm yours."

          "Y' deserve better'n me, Martine."

          She pulled him closer, reveling in the way he breathed her in as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I deserve th' man I love. It don't matter who we were before th' world went t' hell, Merle. I wasn't no prize neither. What matters is who we are now. That we were able t' find love in th' middle o' this crap was a miracle from God, an' I ain't one t' thumb m' nose up at th' almighty." She drew in a shuddering breath and held on. "We're gonna make it, baby … an' we're gonna be happy. Jus' y' wait."

          It was a vow she set in stone.

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol shivered herself to wakefulness, missing her husband's warmth in the stillness of predawn. She was finding herself wishing they could have brought the generator from the colonial, for the prison was nothing better than a tomb. Its concrete walls held onto the chill iciness of winter, and no number of blankets seemed able to chase away the cold from her bones. She sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she pulled on another pair of socks and wrapped the quilt about her shoulders. The thought of starting breakfast held no appeal for her, but she knew it wouldn't be long before the group began to rouse themselves, anxious to start the new day.

          Her gaze wandered to the cell Sophia had chosen the night before only to find Daryl standing there at the barred door, watching their daughter sleep with a troubled knit to his brow. She knew that look all too well. He was feeling guilty. Carol crept from their bed there on the perch and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, leaning up on her toes to press a kiss to his nape.

          Daryl smiled softly as her warmth pressed into his back. "Did I wake you?"

          "No, it seems my internal clock has become synced with yours," she mumbled around a yawn. "Did you sleep at all?"

          "Lil' bit. Gonna take time t' get used t' this place."

          "And you were worried."

          Daryl sighed and nodded. "Yeah. I know y' prob'ly think I'm bein' overprotective, but I got m' reasons, Carol. Th' world ain't how it used t' be where they could be kids. They're havin' t' grow up so damn fast, an' I don't want her runnin' headlong into somethin' she ain't ready for."

          Carol tugged on his hand, pulling him away from the cell so he wouldn't wake the girls. "I think you're overprotective because you love her, Daryl, and that's not a bad thing. How can you not be with the dead rising up and walking the earth? You chose us. You chose to be her father without reservation, and put your whole heart into it. It's more than Ed  _ever_  did for her. You've taught her what it is like to have a father's love, and I thank God every day we found you. Don't feel guilty for making her upset."

          Daryl ducked his head. "Don't like it when she's mad at me."

          She grinned. "Oh, Pookie, it's not going to be the last time, I assure you. You want to tell me why you think you need to watch Carl and Sophia so closely? They haven't even hit their teen years yet."

          He raised his gaze to hers, his eyes filled with an inner turmoil he didn't know how to express. He wanted to break something over the boy's head and at the same time, lock his daughter in a cell until she was thirty. "That ain't no normal friendship," he said finally. "I know y' an' Olive Oyl's always goin' on about how they have a strong bond an' y' think it's cute an' shit, but it's not! Y' need t' watch 'em, Carol. Watch th' way they move around each other. Watch th' way he calculates his every action … t' protect her. She's th' same way with him. Like they're two halves o' th' same whole."

          "Daryl –"

          "I mean it!" he hissed, fighting to keep his voice lowered so he wouldn't disturb their sleeping family.

          Carol wanted to scoff. The children were far too young to even think about what Daryl was suggesting, but she wouldn't belittle his opinion. "Daryl, how do you know? They could grow up side by side and never develop stronger feelings for one another. They could remain friends, find love with other people. They're twelve."

          "How do I know?" he whispered, cradling her face in his warm palms. "Because I looked at you th' same way before I realized how much I love y'." He pressed his brow to hers and drew in a shuddering breath. "I like Carl. He's a good kid, got a smart head on his shoulders, an' I know he can protect her. As much as I hate t' admit it, if he follows th' path he's on, I wouldn't mind callin' him fam'ly. Jus' not for 'bout five years or so."

          Carol chuckled lowly and leaned up to kiss him. "I'm going to remind you of this conversation one day."

          Daryl rolled his eyes. "Jus' watch them, Carol."

          "I will. I promise. And in the meantime, you need to talk to Sophia. I don't want you to let anger fester between the two of you."

          He sighed. "I need t' get outta here for a while, before Rick gets ready t' start explorin' this place. Think I might go huntin' … take Soph with me."

          Carol nodded. "I think that's a splendid idea."

 

*.*.*

 

          Lori covered her mouth, stifling a yawn as she entered the common room to find Carol stirring the pot containing their morning meal. Oatmeal … again, she thought with a groan. She really missed the farm where they'd had a bit of variety in their diets. "Hey, Carol. You get any sleep after the drama last night, or did  _Papa_  Dixon rant to you all night?"

          Carol snorted and shot a grin towards her friend. She filled a glass with water and stirred in a packet of protein powder the Marines had added to the stores. "Daryl was rather quiet last night, actually. He's still trying to get the hang of this parenting thing."

          The brunette grimaced as she gulped down the chalky drink. "Did you tell him it's not an exact science? We've been mothers since the day our kids were born, and we still haven't figured it all out. Probably never will. All we can do is use our best instincts and hope our children fare better in this world than we have up to this point."

          Carol ladled up two bowls of the porridge and sat down across the table from Lori. "I tried to tell him that, but … " she sighed heavily, "Daryl wants to be perfect. It's not like he had great role models growing up. He's scared he's going to screw up, and no matter how many times I try to reassure him, it doesn't seem to help."

          Lori's nose wrinkled in disgust as she tasted the bland concoction in her bowl. "He's done wonders with the kids. It's not always going to be sunshine and rainbows. There are going to be arguments, fights, a good case of the cold shoulder where she won't want to speak to him for days … he can't take it personally."

          "He will, though. He's a very sensitive man."

          "Where are they anyway? I haven't seen the kids or Daryl this morning."

          Carol pinched the bridge of her nose as she swirled her spoon in her bowl, contemplating whether or not she was hungry enough for another morning of bland oats. "Daryl took Sophia hunting with him. He needed time outside the fences. I suggested he take our daughter with him to work out their issues." She pointed to the open door leading out into the courtyard with her spoon. "Carl's out there sitting on the picnic table sulking because he wasn't invited along."

          Lori's hand rose to cover her heart as she leaned over far enough to see out the door. Her baby boy looked utterly dejected. "Aww, he looks crushed."

          Carol reached over and squeezed Lori's free hand. "Daryl didn't leave him behind because of what happened last night. He just thought it would be better to talk to Sophia alone. You know how Daryl feels about Carl. I tried to explain that to him when he came through the kitchen this morning, but he didn't feel like talking about it."

          The brunette rose quickly from her seat at the table and cleaned her bowl. She refilled it from the pot and shot Carol a smile of thanks. "Maybe he'll want to talk it over with me," she suggested hesitantly. Carl hadn't been much for sharing his feelings with her lately, but she could hope.

          "That's a great idea," Carol nodded.

          Carl looked up as she approached, his eyes filled with a wealth of sadness no mother ever wanted to see in her child's gaze. When he saw it was her, he dropped his chin back into his palm. "Hi, Mom."

          "Morning, baby. How'd you sleep?":

          He snorted a bitter laugh. "Seriously, Mom?" He was still embarrassed over the scene Daryl had caused last night when he'd blown everything out of proportion about Carl bunking with Sophia.

          "Come on. It wasn't that bad." She took a seat next to him on the table top and pressed the bowl into his hands.

          "Daryl hates me," Carl groaned.

          "Daryl doesn't hate you."

          Carl looked up at her from beneath his deeply furrowed brows. "He thinks I'm out to get into Sophia's pants, Mom. Which is the last thing I want, but try telling him that."

          "Ah, sweetie, he's new at the whole dad thing. He's just trying really hard to be a good father to Sophia. He's trying to protect her. He does  _not_  hate you. Do you think he'd work so hard to teach you things if he hated you?"

          The boy shoveled several bites of oatmeal into his mouth, not so much for the taste, but rather to give himself time to think. Finally, he shook his head. "He was really good to me when I rescued Sophia from that man who was trying to take her from us."

          Lori dropped her head into her hands and shoved her hair out of her face. "Of course, he was. What you did … there are grown men who wouldn't have gone to such extremes to save a friend. As much as I hate that you were put in that position, you proved how brave you were, baby. You saved Sophia, and Daryl isn't likely to forget that … ever. But I'm more worried with how you are dealing with what you did."

          Carl shrugged off her concern. "I did what I had to do, Mom."

          "That's not what I asked, Carl, and you know it," she said gently.

          "I can't let myself think of it. if I do, I get this pain in my chest and I can't breathe," he hissed, pressing a hand over his breastbone. "But it's not because of what I had to do, Mom. I think of what he would have done to Sophia. I close my eyes and I can see what he would have done to her, and … I'm not a killer! I don't want to kill, Mom, but I won't let anyone hurt her or anyone else in my family if I can help it. It's just who we have to be now."

          Lori's heart broke for her son, to see the anguished tears streaming over his freckled cheeks and to hear the pain and determination in his voice. "I'm so sorry you have to grow up in this nightmare, Carl. I don't want this for you. All I want is to protect you and keep you safe … and I can't, can I?"

          Carl slid his thin arms around his mother's waist and buried his head against her chest. "We can't be kids anymore, Mom … not if we want to survive. To keep me safe, you teach me, arm me."

          Lori's tears fell to mingle with his. "I don't want you to go cold on us, baby, or lose yourself."

          "I won't. Sophia … she grounds me." He raised his watery gaze to meet hers. "I've never had a friend like her before. It's not like Daryl thinks, Mom. I'd never touch her like that. It's just … I feel like I can tell her things I can't tell anyone else. Sometimes I can just sit with her without saying anything and I feel like she understands me. Does that make sense?"

          She shook her head, her arm around his shoulder tightening. "I do. She's your best friend. It was like that for me and your dad a long time before we ever fell in love. It could be that way for you and Sophia too, but I want you to promise me something. Wait until you're of age and you're sure it's something the both of you want."

          Carl nodded, glad to have a conversation with one of his parents which didn't end in an argument. "I will."

          Lori looked out over the yard to the break in the trees where Daryl and Sophia emerged, struggling to haul in the large doe they'd bagged. "There's just one more thing you're going to have to think about, son. When you  _are_  of age and thinking of marriage and having a family, do you really want Daryl Dixon as your father in law."

          Carl groaned. "He might mellow by then."

          Lori patted her son on his back. "Keep telling yourself that, dear."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Well, things just got a bit more complicated for Marty and Merle, and Carl finally had a decent conversation with his mother :D Hope you all liked it. If you did, please let me know! Thanks all who are reading!


	61. Chapter 61

 

          Daryl watched his daughter with a heavy heart and a silent tongue as she hurried to groom herself and grab her gear. She complained about having to use the empty cell they'd set up as a temporary restroom, tending to her morning ablutions and quickly brushing her teeth before tackling her long blond hair – now past her shoulders as she refused to let her mother cut it – into a messy ponytail. She grumbled over the protein bar he handed her as they made their way to the front gates, but more to herself than her father. He could just imagine having to deal with a belligerent child all morning, and to say he wasn't looking forward to their hunting trip was a vast understatement.

          He wasn't sure how long he'd be able to hold his silence, his tongue already raw from biting back a snarky remark several times. His eyes never left her, observing her every move, readying himself for when she would finally snap and turn her anger on him. She could have knocked him over with a feather, however; when he closed the gate behind them and her entire demeanor changed. Sophia squared her shoulders and closed her eyes, listening to the quiet sounds of the forest which beckoned to them. Withdrawing a knit cap from the back pocket of her jeans, she tucked her hair beneath it and buttoned her jacket against the cold. Only then did she take a deep breath and move her bow into her left hand.

          "Ready, Daddy?" she asked in barely more than a whisper … her hunting voice as he liked to think of it.

          Despite her calm bearing, Daryl refused to let his guard down. He was prepared for whatever she was ready to dish out. It was going to take more than a twelve-year-old to break him. He raised the arm holding his crossbow at the ready, pointing towards the trees. "After you, baby girl. Show me some tracks," he said just as quietly.

          She exuded confidence as she set off around the stream and carefully made her way across the small bridge towards the tree line. If Daryl hadn't been waiting for the other shoe to drop, he would have swelled with pride at how far she had come. Much like her mother. They'd come far from the shy trembling females he'd met so long ago at the quarry and blossomed into two survivors. He knew, without a doubt, should they become separated from their family, they would be able to make their own way in the world. Daryl shuddered at the mere thought of losing either one of them, but at least he knew they would be able to take care of themselves. He'd made sure of it.

          Sophia cast a side-eyed glance his way and sighed before returning her gaze to the forest floor. "Are you going to give me the silent treatment all morning, Dad?" she asked, her fingers tightening on her bow.

          Daryl stopped, his brow furrowing. "What?"

          "Are you still mad at me?"

          "Soph, I'm not mad," he said honestly. "I thought y' were mad at _me_."

          Sophia giggled, her lips turning up into an amused grin. "I was." She turned on her heel and set off deeper into the trees, having spotted an interesting set of deer tracks.

          "Hold up … so y' not mad? What changed your mind?" Since when was talking to a kid so hard, he wondered. "Y' wouldn't even look at me last night."

          The girl huffed in resignation and leaned against the nearest tree as she regarded her father. She could see there would be no hunting until she'd appeased his curiosity. "After Mama tucked me in, I couldn't sleep. I had a long time to think."

          Daryl felt his face flame, feeling as if he'd somehow failed her. "Yeah? What'd y' think about?"

          "Ed," she whispered, staring off into the distance. "You're so different from him, Daddy. I was so angry at you for embarrassing me in front of our entire family. I wanted to hide in that cell for the rest of my life, so I wouldn't have to face anyone."

          "Sophia –"

          "No, let me finish," she insisted, staring down at the bow still clenched so tightly in her hands. "I never wanted to speak to you again … but … but then I thought about what Ed would have done if he'd have caught me with a boy in my room. H-He would have called me a s-slut and … and a wh-whore … and beat me like he used to do to my mom. There's no telling what he would have done to Carl."

          Daryl pulled her into his arms and let her tears fall against his chest. "Soph, I never woulda done somethin' like that t' y'. Please tell me y' know that … that I ain't like him."

          "You're not. You could _never_ be like him. As mad as you were last night, you never raised a hand to me or Carl, and you never called us ugly names. And when I realized what a brat I was being, all I wanted to do was crawl in bed with you and mom and tell you both how sorry I was," she sobbed, "but you were asleep."

          He pressed a kiss to her brow and chuckled. "Y' could be thirty years old, and we'd still make room for y', Sophia." He tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry I overreacted last night. I didn't mean t' embarrass y'. Bein' a dad … well, it's all new t' me still. I just worry about y'. I'm not tryin' t' be mean. If I didn't love y' so much -"

          "You're doing a great job, Daddy," she said, brushing the last of her tears away. "You know this isn't the only time I'll screw up – even though we weren't doing anything wrong – and we'll argue plenty more times before I'm grown, right?"

          Daryl snorted, the corner of his mouth twitching with hidden mirth. "No boys in your room. There's common areas where y' can hang out. I'm not tryin' t' separate y' from your friend, Soph, but I need both of y' t' have some boundaries. Got it?"

          "Got it," she quickly agreed. "So … we're good?"

          He tilted his head to the side, watching her closely as he wondered how much he could tease her. "I dunno. Y' think y' could bag us some game for dinner t'night?"

          Sophia saw right through him. "If I do, can I help scout out the admin buildings with you when we get back?"

          "No!"

          "Dad," she whined.

          "No, too dangerous," he insisted.

          Sophia huffed indignantly and adjusted the grip on her bow. "Fine!"

          Daryl did his best to hide the amused smirk he wore as he watched his daughter stealthily creep through the thicket of birch and pine. He was so proud of her, of who she'd become once she'd been freed of her cage. It had only been a matter of time before Ed would have turned the abuse onto her. Her inner beauty was stunning. She had fire and a zest for life he hadn't witnessed before. It was amazing … what a little warrior she'd become. As much as Carol had tried to shelter her, it hadn't kept her from seeing how things could be different, it had never squashed her  _hope_.

          He trailed after her, knowing if he let his mind wander, he could easily lose sight of her and then spend the morning tracking her. Little miss was becoming quite skilled at concealing herself in the woods. Apparently, this morning, however; she wasn't in the mood for one of their training games. Sophia stopped, crouching behind a tree and whistling softly for him to hurry up. He knelt beside her, making not a sound.

          Sophia reached behind him, trying to still her pounding heart as her fingers gripped the edge of his vest. "Dad, look!" she breathed excitedly, pointing in several different directions. Squirrels chittered from the treetops, there was a fat hare burrowing under a copse of bushes and in the center of the clearing, a doe. "How can this place be teeming with wildlife when further south we were wondering if walkers had decimated the ecosystem?"

          Daryl scratched at the scruff on his chin. "Herds are pushing North, maybe … game is smart enough t' look for new stomping grounds."

          The girl frowned. "Should we be worried the walkers will show up here next?"

          "Don't go borrowin' trouble, Soph. Whatever comes at us, we'll do as we've done from th' beginnin' … we'll fight," he assured her. He didn't need her losing faith now.

          She nodded and turned to find the doe had slipped off into the trees. She wasn't worried. The loam of the forest floor was soft, and the tracks were easily visible. Rising to her feet, she brushed the leaves from her pants and inched out from behind the tree, her father following. "You really think the prison is worth fighting for, Daddy?"

          Daryl snorted as he studied the leaf litter. "Looks like we got more than one deer in the area." He pointed towards where the doe had disappeared and then again to where a second set of tracks led deeper into the foliage. "Which one y' wanna follow?"

          Sophia chewed at her lower lip – another habit she'd picked up from him – her brow set in deep concentration. Who knew how deep into the woods the second deer would lead them, when she was certain the first doe was a sure thing? "That way."

          "Lead th' way," Daryl nodded, allowing her to lead. They'd barely made a few steps before he revisited her earlier question. "Y' don't like th' prison?"

          It was her turn to snort. "It's a big mausoleum, Dad. Instead of feeling safe … I just feel trapped. And it's so cold. No, I don't like it, but I know it's necessary right now."

          Daryl frowned, feeling the same way about their new home. "Yeah, I s'pose it'll do for now. Try not t' let it get t' y', ok? Y' don't have t' stay locked in your cell all th' time. There will be things for y' t' do outside. An' if it gets t' be too much, I'll bring y' out here t' hunt."

          Her bow fell in her hand to rest against her leg as she swiped at her eyes, turning from him so he wouldn't see. "Dad, what if … what if Merle –"

          He slung his left arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close to his side, his crossbow held up, poised to fire. He was ever vigilant where his family was concerned. "Don't think like that, baby girl. He's tryin'. Y' know … before th' turn all I wanted was for m' brother t' grow up, t' stop his shit with th' drugs, th' booze, an' th' loose women. Took th' world goin' t' hell t' get m' wish, an' look at 'im now. We just have t' give 'im a bit more time, ok?"

          Sophia gave him a tight squeeze and squared her shoulders. "Ain't nobody can kill a Dixon but another Dixon, right, Daddy?"

          "That's right! Now let's go get that deer." Daryl watched her move through the trees, hoping he hadn't just lied to his kid.

 

*.*.*

 

          A loud whistle from the tower had Rick and Shane running to the gates to open them. Sophia huffed a little as she struggled with her kill, but didn't let it stop her as she preceded her father through the now open gate. There were a few walkers trailing behind them, but she and Daryl managed to stay ahead of them despite their burden. Shane went out to dispatch them quickly enough.

          "Y'all went hunting?" Rick asked, securing the gate once everyone was inside.

          Sophia arched a brow in his direction. "Good morning, Captain Obvious," she snarked. "Wanna give me a hand? I'm all bloody and my grip keeps slipping."

          Daryl bit back a chuckle at his daughter's cheek. "Run on ahead an' find y' mama. Get cleaned up an' see what she's got planned for y' today."

          Shane wasn't so reserved. "She's got quite a mouth on her," he chortled. "You're rubbing off on her, Dixon."

          Daryl rolled his eyes and slung his crossbow over his shoulder as the two former deputies relieved him of the field-dressed doe. Rick still stared at him accusingly. "I woke up this morning, and you were gone. You need to tell someone when you head out."

          The hunter shot him an  _are-you-fuckin'-serious_ look and clucked his tongue. "Well, pardon th' hell outta me, Officer Friendly. I thought th' group might like some fresh meat for dinner t'night."

          "That's not what –"

          Shane cut Rick off before he could shove any more of his foot into his mouth. "Hell yeah! I for one can't wait to see what Carol cooks up for us. Damn, but that woman can cook."

          "It's not that I don't appreciate it, Daryl … " Rick ducked his head sheepishly. "Just didn't know where you'd gone. This group is only strong if we stick together. And I really wanted to get an early start on the administration building this morning."

          Daryl slid the gate for the inner courtyard open. "Yeah, well I needed to spend some time with m' daughter. Not like th' admin building is gonna run off while I'm huntin'," he grumbled. "Why didn't y' just ask Carol where I was?"

          Shane snickered as he set the doe down on one of the outside tables. "Well, you see, he was going to, but she was showing Lori how to break down her new pistol to clean it."

"So?"

          One side of Rick's mouth quirked up as he folded his arms over his chest. "Lori … she … um –"

          "She can't hit the broad side of a barn. He didn't think she could afford the distraction. You know Carol … she'll make sure Lori knows her weapon top to bottom when she's done with her," Shane finished for his floundering friend.

          Daryl snorted. "M' wife didn't know shit about weapons 'til I got her away from Ed. Didn't take her long t' learn. Won't take Lori long either if she pays attention."

          Rick's brows rose in surprise. "You really think she's capable of learning quickly? We've been trying to teach her how to use that .38 with little luck. What makes you think she'll do any better with the 9mm? You got that much faith in her?"

          "In Lori?" Daryl scoffed. "No. She's too dependent on us keepin' her safe. But I  _do_  have faith in Carol. When I first met her, she was a little mouse … that's what Merle likes t' call her. But that ain't her no more. She's always been smart, but now she watches  _everything_ , especially if it has to do with learning how t' survive. Don't underestimate her." He whistled for the kids and gave them quick instructions on what to do with the deer before heading off towards C block, Rick and Shane following. "Lori has it in her t' do th' same, Rick. Maybe  _you_  should have a little faith in  _her._ Y' married 'er, for fuck's sake! Y' had t' have loved her, because it damn sure couldn't have been for her sparklin' personality."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl glanced up at the late morning sun as the rest of their team listened to Rick hemming and hawing with Shane and Glenn as to how they should handle the administration building where the warden's office was located. He leaned back against the brick building and gnawed at the cuticle on his thumb. There were so many other things he could be doing instead … such as helping Rory and the kids butcher the deer Sophia had killed that morning, or moving more of the bodies outside the main fence, or teasing his wife, he thought with a grin. But it was imperative they find a layout of the prison and hopefully the location of the armory. They could always use more weapons to add to their stores. And he certainly wasn't going to go off into the bowels of the prison with nothing but his crossbow and his good looks. They needed a definitive plan as to where they were going before he risked his life, especially when his girls depended on him.

          Rick cut his eyes in Daryl's direction as the hunter snorted at his own train of thought. "Daryl … you with us, man?"

          "Jus' waitin' on your call," he grunted, not willing to admit he'd been woolgathering.

          The sergeant had three of his men standing at ease behind him. "What is our objective here, Rick? We going in hot?" he asked, his hand resting lightly on his rifle.

          Rick squinted at the door for a moment before turning his gaze to the man. "Only fire if you have to. If there are any walkers in there, try to only use your knives. We don't want to be swarmed. If any are on the ground floor, we might be able to draw them out … take them down one at a time."

          He nodded at Shane and the deputy pounded loudly on the double doors leading into the building. Daryl pushed off the wall and adjusted his crossbow on his arm as he paced back and forth between the Marines and the doors. He was full of barely restrained energy, ready to jump into the thick of it. He was rather disappointed when only two lone walkers ambled out of the crack Shane had made in the door. Rick took out the first with his machete, and Glenn the other with his knife.

          Daryl snarled in disgust. "That cain't be all that's in there." He nudged one with the toe of his boot. "Must be what was left of the secretarial pool."

          Rick shook his head. "Alright, everyone, stay alert."

          Daryl took point, crossbow up and swiveling in all directions, his flashlight strapped to it, giving him ample light. The others fell in behind him in tight formation. The foyer was empty and almost eerily silent. It branched off into two hallways. He paused, again waiting on Rick.

          "Two teams … Shane, Brian, Cameron and Glenn take the left hall. Me, Daryl, Miles and Jamie will take the right. We don't know what we're going to find in here, so stay tight."

          They were silent as they worked their way down the hallway, clearing each room as they went. The main visiting area for prisoners to meet with their families, conference rooms, file room, restroom, and they'd only encountered a handful of walkers who looked as if they'd worked there. A few in business attire, a guard or two and another secretary from what Daryl could tell. Twenty minutes later, they met the rest of their group at the bottom of the staircase directly opposite the foyer.

          "Any trouble?" Daryl asked as Glenn took a long pull from his canteen.

          The man shook his head and heaved a weary sigh. "Fair few of those guards in riot gear. I'll be glad to see the last of them."

          Shane nodded at Glenn when Rick shot him a worried look. "Bastard came out of nowhere, knocked Glenn over and had him face down on the floor. Good thing it had that helmet on and couldn't bite him."

          "Sure y' alright?" Daryl frowned darkly at him. "No scratches or bites?"

          "Nah, I'm good … just can we not tell Maggie about this?"

          Daryl gnawed on his lower lip, grateful his friend hadn't been harmed. But he wasn't taking any more chances. He grabbed Glenn's elbow and pointed him towards the stairs. "C'mon, Short Round, you're with me."

          Glenn huffed a laugh and began to climb. The second floor was more of what they'd encountered on the first, but with fewer walkers. He was relieved when the 'all clear' was given and they stood before the closed and locked door of the warden's office. Daryl didn't hesitate to bang loudly on the solid oak doors.

          "Why're you knocking?" Glenn asked quietly.

          Daryl smirked. "If y' were looking for th' perfect place t' hide from th' hell in th' blocks, where's th' first place you'd run?"

          "Warden's office," the sergeant said from behind them.

          The sound of a body … then more than one … slammed against the doors, followed by the accompanying groans and growls of the walkers within.

          "Well, ain't that a bitch," Brian drawled, scowling at the doors. "Doors open inward. Ain't gonna be none of that lettin' 'em out one at a time strategy."

          Miles pushed his cover back and scratched his head. "T-Dog's got those shields he found. We could batter them back and let the others come in from behind us to take 'em out."

          "GO!" Jamie barked, and his men hustled back to C block to fetch the required gear.

          Rick dropped down on his haunches and rubbed at the back of his neck, grateful for a respite. "You really think it'll work?" he asked the sergeant.

          "Unless you want someone to scale the wall outside and come in through a window."

          Rick looked up at Shane who gaped at him incredulously. "Fuck that, Rick! I am  _not_  scaling a building and busting through a window."

          Daryl snorted as Glenn – who usually got volunteered for all the bullshit assignments – inched further behind him, trying to make himself small. "C'mon, Rick, that's crazy."

          "You're right," he agreed with a wry smile, "but it was a good plan B."

          Jamie shook his head, knowing the man was crazy enough to follow through with a plan like that. He and his men were trained for special ops, but from what little he knew about their leader, he would try it if it would help out his group. At least the man was dedicated … sometimes to the extremes. Only Shane and Daryl seemed to be able to talk him off the ledge when he wanted to do something too farfetched.

          Daryl hurried to the stairs, alarmed by the racket going on below. He pointed his crossbow over the wide bannister, relieved to see it was only the Marines Jamie had sent to fetch the shields. He stepped back to find Rick beside him, a worried frown marring his brow.

          "D'you think they were able to get them without our wives noticing?" the sheriff asked.

          The hunter arched a brow. "Seriously? They woulda had t' go right through th' common room. Ain't no way they didn't notice. 'Specially since Lori an' Carol are settin' up th' kitchen in there." Daryl nudged him with an elbow to the ribs. "They're not gonna come out here, Rick. I swear y' worry like an old lady."

          Rick grimaced, imagining what Lori would have to say when they returned to the block. Things were good between them, but that didn't mean he liked her nagging him about what risks he might take to get the prison in shape. He lined up with Glenn and Shane behind the Marines and their shields, ready to storm the last room in the building – aside from the basement – as Daryl moved to unlock the doors and throw them wide.

          Jamie led his men forward with a war cry which had Daryl rolling his eyes, pushing the half dozen walkers back further into the room. Glenn threw the doors closed to prevent any from escaping to ambush them later before engaging one of the geeks, stabbing his knife into the soft tissue of its temple. Daryl fired his crossbow into the head of another and spun on his heel to thrust his big hunting knife into the base of another's skull. Rick and Shane worked on the other three threats on the far side of the room, all the while the Marines covered them. It was over before they could break a sweat, and they all felt rather pleased with themselves that another part of the prison was clear of walkers.

          Shane patted Rick on the back. "Why don't I take Jamie and his men down to the basement and make sure it's clear. If we're lucky, we might find something useful down there," he suggested.

          Rick nodded. "Good idea. We'll sweep the office and meet you down there in twenty."

          Daryl stared at the long wall between to bookshelves and smirked smugly. "We ain't gonna need that long," he said, pointing a long finger to the blueprint of the prison tacked to the drywall. "We got what we came for."

 

*.*.*

 

          "Damn, woman, y' gonna go through all your cleanin' supplies on two rooms," Daryl commented lightly as the others followed him into C block and deposited what they'd looted from the armory onto one of the tables.

          Carol held herself in check, suppressing the need to go to him, to strip him of his filthy clothes and check for bites and scratches. That very real fear which gripped her every time he left on some mission or another with Rick and Shane, loosening somewhat in her chest. She knew he was fine if he was teasing her. "I'm sure we'll find more hidden away in a closet somewhere, and if not, we can find some on a run. You know I can't abide filth, Daryl, and it's not good for Lori and the baby to be exposed to it either." More of her tension fled as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his side. "Besides, it keeps us all busy and distracted from wondering what you lot might get up to."

          He leaned in close to her ear, his voice a soft murmur of reassurance. "Ain't no sense worryin' about shit y' can't change. If somethin' is gonna happen, worryin' ain't gonna stop it."

          "I love you … it's my job to worry," she insisted stubbornly. Before he could argue, she changed the subject, nodding towards the table. "Was there a good haul from the armory?"

          Daryl shrugged and linked his fingers with hers as he watched Rick and Shane go through their meager supplies. "Flashbangs, some CS triple-chasers, few boxes of ammo … it was pretty much wiped out. Figure whoever made a break for it, took what they could from th' stores an' left what they couldn't carry. It's fine, though. We still have what Rick had in his gun bag, what we took from th' bunker, an' th' weapons Jamie an' his men had stored up."

          "Not to mention what we find out on our runs. So, we're good?"

          "Yeah,"

          Carol let her free hand trail over his bicep, down to grasp his fingers, wrapping around them reassuringly. "Sophia seems better. Did you have a good talk with her this morning? No more quarrel between the two of you?"

          Daryl grinned down at her. "Mhmm. We talked about a lot o' her concerns. She's adjusting jus' like th' rest of us. I wanted t' make it clear t' her she could come t' us if she needed t' talk about what was bothering her."

          Carol sighed, her eyes searching her daughter out where she and Carl were working with Rory and Randall on butchering the doe. "She's in the habit of bottling her troubles. Ed was of the firm belief children should be seen and not heard." She squeezed his hand. "I'm so glad she feels she can talk to you."

          "I'm tryin'," he said, ducking his head sheepishly. "Gonna take me a little time t' get used t' th' whole dad thing. Protectin' her is easy because she's smart an' she listens, but when it comes t' th' … it ain't like I had the best role model for a father, Carol."

          "Daryl … you're wonderful." Her hand lifted to brush his wayward bangs out of his eyes, so she could better see him. "I know you can't see it, but you're the finest man I've ever had the pleasure to meet. Parenting doesn't come with instructions. We just have to muddle through and hope we don't mess up too bad, but from what I've seen so far, you're doing a great job. Don't doubt yourself." She doubted he'd ever find the same faith in himself she placed in him, but she would continue to encourage him as long as he needed. One day … maybe … he would see for himself what a good man he was, and wipe away the poison Jackson had plied to Daryl's mind.

          His cheeks tinted a lovely pink beneath her praise, and again, he wondered what he'd ever done to deserve a woman like her. He didn't know how to answer her, and he felt inadequate standing there with her, fighting his usual battle with words. Thankfully, Rick drew his attention back to their plans for the day.

          "Hey, Daryl, you ready to get this done?"

          Lori's nails dug into her husband's bicep, her eyes fraught with fear as he met her gaze. "You're really going down there?" she interjected in a heated whisper, ever mindful of protecting the children from her worries.

          Rick's gaze softened as he looked down into her wide sable eyes. "It has to be done." He pointed to the blueprint Shane had fastened to the wall, drawing her over to it and tracing where they stood with a lone finger. "At least now we know where we're going. We'll take two teams," he explained, mapping out the cafeteria and the infirmary. "If the prison fell early after the outbreak, there should still be supplies in both areas … supplies we  _need_ , Lori."

          "And we can't have walkers roaming around our new home, now can we?" Glenn added, though his gaze was focused on Maggie where she stood next to him. "We have to try to make it safe."

          Shane nodded. "No more losses. Not if we can help it."

          T-Dog smacked his sharpened rebar lance against his open palm and shot her a cheeky grin. "Time to get this show on the road," he said, looking over at Rick. "So, who all's going down there?"

          Rick pulled Lori into his side and felt her relax a bit as she buried her face against his chest. He knew it was in her nature to worry, to question everything, but he was glad she wasn't going to fight him on this. It had to be done. As curious as the children were, he knew it wouldn't be long before they decided to explore, and he couldn't bear the thought of them coming to harm. "Volunteers?"

          Nearly everyone gathered together in the common room raised their hands. Except Lori who knew it was pointless. Rick would lock her in a cell before he let her go down to the tombs. Daryl was bouncing on the balls of his feet, more than ready to head below. He grabbed Carol's hand as it shot into the air and pulled it back down to her side. "Oh, hell no, woman!"

          She arched one dark brow at him. "Is this because I'm a woman, or because you doubt my abilities?"

          His jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed. "Neither, an' y' damn well know it," he fumed. "Sophia needs y' up here. She's gonna worry enough when I go down there."

          Carol sighed, knowing he was right. If, god forbid, something was to happen to him, at least she would have one parent. "Fine …"

          Daryl fought off a keen feeling of rejection as his wife pursed her lips and turned away to watch the rest of the group. He didn't hear Glenn arguing with Maggie or how the teams were being chosen. His sole focus was on the rigid tension evident in Carol's posture. He knew he was doing the right thing by making her stay, yet she was the only person he knew able to make him feel badly about his decision. His left hand curled gently around her hip, dragging her back towards him as his chin came to rest upon her shoulder. "Carol … don't be like that," his gravelly voice intoned next to her ear.

          She shivered and relaxed back against his chest. "I'm not," she replied. "I am yielding to your good judgement. I'm not so stubborn I can't admit when you're right. But it doesn't mean I have to like it."

          He sighed, relieved she wasn't going to fight him. He hated fighting with her. He would if it came down to it, but would avoid it at all costs. It made him angry and out of sorts, and that was a side of him she didn't need to see. "Y'know I'll be able t' concentrate better if I know you're safe up here with th' others. I'm not doin' it 'cause I don't want y' with me. Ain't nobody I'd rather have coverin' m' ass."

          Carol snorted. "I know. Besides, there's plenty to do up here to keep me distracted." She tugged on his hand until his arm was firmly settled around her waist. She wouldn't cry or give in to a fit of theatrics to show her fear for him … for them all, really. Instead, she bit lightly at her lip and relished his embrace. "Just … be safe, Daryl … please."

          He hugged her a bit tighter, but they were both drawn back to reality at the sound of Rick's raised voice.

          "Hershel, you're not going either," he said, resting a firm but gentle hand to the older man's shoulder. "The best way for you and Sprite to help is to get our clinic set up. It was a damn fine idea yesterday, and moreso today. You're the only doctor we have, and we can't risk you getting hurt."

          "He's right, Hershel," Shane said, nodding respectfully.

          Maggie hugged Beth to her side, relieved their father would have to comply with Rick's wishes. Amidst the bickering, it was finally decided Rick, Daryl, Shane, T-Dog, Glenn and Cameron would make up the group which would search out the cafeteria. Jamie would lead the second team including Brian, Miles, Tessa and Rory to the infirmary. Each team would be going in silently, relying on their knives … the use of handguns only to be used in case of emergency.

          Carol wrapped her arms around herself as Daryl disappeared through the barred door, locking it behind him, a shudder shaking her to her core. Lori held herself together long enough to escape to her cell, her muffled cries echoing off the stone walls.

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol tried not to dwell on the time, though it was difficult not to sneak peeks at her watch and wonder if Daryl was safe. There were too many things which could go wrong down there. Narrow corridors, hordes of inmates turned walker, little to no light aside from the flashlights they carried with them, and a myriad of other things. How was she not to worry? Instead, she tried to focus on overseeing tasks to keep the rest of the group busy. She greeted Randall with a wan smile as he came in from the courtyard where the kids were still butchering the deer and preparing it to go in the small cooler they had connected to the outlet in one of the trucks. That had been a contribution from the Marines and she couldn't be happier to have something in which to store their perishables.

          Alexandra already had their large soup pot going on the camp stove they'd brought into the common room, seasoning the water with some of their meager stores of dehydrated onion, bell pepper and spices. Dry gravy mix, canned potatoes and carrots and the cubed venison would be added to provide them with a hearty stew.

          Randall laid the heavy brown paper containing the venison on the table next to the stove and nodded to Carol. "We're nearly done, ma'am. After clean-up, I was wondering if you'd mind me taking Carl and Sophia out along the fence. There's a small buildup of walkers, and Beth said we should try to get rid of them before their moans attract more … if it's ok with you."

          Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Maggie and Patricia organizing the boxed and canned foods they'd brought with them in neat rows in the storage closet – now their pantry. Beth waited near the door leading out into the courtyard, there to see if Carol would concede with Randall's request while keeping an eye out for Carl and Sophia at the same time. Andrea hovered near Alex, chatting amiably about nothing in particular and Kayla sorted through the laundry supplies they'd be using the next day on the pile of filthy clothes which were piling up. Even working to make their small space livable couldn't take Carol's mind off of what might be happening below in the tombs.

          "Yes, Randall, that would be fine. Sophia and Carl need as much distraction as we can provide just now. They don't need to sit idle and dwell on where their fathers are or what they're doing. Thank you," she said, trying to muster a bright smile for the boy. "When you're done, perhaps you could set them on watch duty in the guard tower."

          Randall frowned, hating to see her so distraught. She'd been the only one to really believe him after he'd been separated from his group and brought back to the farm. She'd even garnered the redneck's disapproval when she'd taken him under her wing, knowing it had driven a wedge between her and Daryl. He owed her his life, something he didn't take lightly. "Ms. Carol … you know everything is gonna be fine with them, right? They're good fighters. They'll come back; you'll see," he said, trying in his own way to make her feel better.

          Her hand came to rest on his shoulder, giving it a gentle reassuring squeeze before she watched him go, Beth following along after him. Andrea dried her hands on a clean dish cloth and wrapped an arm around Carol's waist, leading her to sit down at one of the tables.

          "He's right, Carol," her friend murmured, lending her strength through touch.

          Carol leaned into Andrea and rested her head on the blonde's shoulder. "We're fine … they're fine … we'll get through this. I wonder if I tell myself that often enough I might begin to believe it."

          Andrea's stomach rumbled as Alexandra seasoned and seared the venison destined for the stew pot. "At least they'll have a good meal tonight to reward them for their bravery," she chuckled. "We can even make some mac and cheese to go with it. Dixon will like that, I think."

          Carol smiled for the first time since the barred door had slammed shut behind the men. "He'd live off that stuff if we let him," she sighed, hugging her friend in silent thanks. She had to remember Andrea's man was down there as well. She was just better at not giving in to her emotions. It warmed her heart to see Shane so happy with Andrea, and not just because it had shifted his focus from his best friend's wife. With the world gone to hell, every one of them needed to grab onto whatever happiness they could while they were able.

          "Feel better?"

          "Much, thank you." Carol rose to her feet and squared her shoulders with determination. She was a Dixon, and Dixons did not sulk. "I think I'm going to see how Hershel and Sprite are coming along with the clinic … and check in on Lori."

          Hershel had insisted on using the first cell on the first floor for the clinic, as it was the closest to the entrance of the block. For now, they had a long narrow table pushed up against one wall where the vet and his new nurse were organizing what medical supplies they'd been able to squirrel away. Hershel's large bag was set beneath it within easy reach. A stack of multicolored towels sat at the edge of the sink, and the two were bickering over the placement of peroxide and alcohol when Carol passed without comment, seeing they were lost in their own little world. They got along well, and she was glad they'd found the new group. Having more than one person learned in the study of wound care could only benefit them in the long run.

          Carol wasn't able to hold her silence, however, when she came to stand at the entrance to Lori and Rick's cell to see her friend curled on her side, salty tear tracks etched on her ashen features. "What are you doing?" she asked, crossing her arms stubbornly over her chest.

          The brunette sat up stiffly, one hand going to her slightly rounded baby bump as the other wiped lingering tears from her eyes. "Hey," she offered lamely, staring down at her feet.

          "Don't give me that crap. Tell me why you're in here moping when there's work to do. Hell, I'd rather see you out on the yard taking a walk and breathing in the fresh air. Lord knows it would be better for the baby if you did," Carol scolded gently. "The stress isn't good for either one of you."

          Lori sniffled, raising red-rimmed eyes to meet Carol's as the older woman sat down beside her on the bunk. "I'm not moping."

          Carol arched a dubious brow, letting the woman know she wasn't fooling anyone.

          "Ok, fine! I'm moping," she huffed. "Happy?"

          "No … why would I be happy to see you in pain?" Carol asked, wrapping her arm around Lori's shoulders and pulling her into a comforting embrace, much like Andrea had done moments ago for Carol. Without the support of their friends, she didn't know how they'd make it. She knew just how desolate it was to be in a bad situation … alone, frightened and hopeless.

          Lori clung to her friend, twining her fingers with Carol's. "How do you do it? How can you just watch Daryl go off on runs, or rushing into the middle of a herd like he did yesterday? I nearly died when I lost sight of Rick, and the danger they have to be facing down in the tombs …" She shuddered, a small sob slipping past her lips. "How can you be so strong all the time?"

          "Because I have to be," Carol said simply. How else would she have survived her marriage to Ed? "And because I'm don't have to deal with raging pregnancy hormones. You're strong too, Lori. You don't give yourself enough credit."

          Lori nodded sheepishly, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Being a cop's wife was a bit easier. I worried about Rick all the time, but it was nothing like now where we have flesh eating corpses just waiting to take a bite out of him. Even when he'd been shot, at least I knew there was a chance he'd recover. If he's bitten or scratched … not even a good healthy dose of penicillin could cure him."

          "You just have to have a bit of faith, Lori. Trust him to keep himself safe. You know the others will watch his back." Carol sighed. "If it makes you feel any better … I'm just as worried about Daryl. As much as I trust him to be careful, I had my own little meltdown in the common room barely twenty minutes ago. When you love someone, it's only natural to worry."

          A scream cut off whatever it was Lori had been about to say, followed by Glenn's anguished cries for Hershel. Carol and Lori collided none too gently at the door of her cell as they shot to their feet and spilled out into the corridor. Lori barely stifled a whimper as she caught sight of her husband covered in blood, his arm supporting Cameron on one side, Glenn on the other as they rushed the injured Marine to Hershel's cell for treatment.

          Carol's heart thundered in her chest when there was no sign of Daryl. She left Lori to follow after Rick and see if there was any way she could help, focused on the noise coming from the common room. She gasped as she stumbled into the room to find her husband, bow raised and targeting four strangers standing before the now open cell door which led into the tombs.

          "Get the others and take them into the cell block, woman," he growled lowly, never taking his eyes off the liberated inmates. He shifted to the right, planting himself between Carol and the men ogling her curiously.

          The others were already moving towards the cells, Alexandra's arm wrapped firmly around Kayla's waist and the woman sobbed over her injured mate. Once they were safely away, Carol turned to look at the men, a shiver tripping along her spine as her eyes settled on who appeared to be their leader … a tall man with long greasy black hair and a hint of madness in his dark gaze. The blood in her veins turned to ice, and her hand snaked down to palm the .45 at her hip, bringing it up to point directly at the man as she stepped out from behind her husband.

          The men all held their hands up in a gesture of surrender. She could hear Daryl calling her down, Rick speaking to the inmates as he charged back into the room, Kayla's cries … yet nothing registered in her fear-soaked mind. She could see the threat before her. Her eyes narrowed as her thumb depressed the safety and cocked the hammer back.

 

 

 

 


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Plz don't hate me *runs to hide*

 

          "Hey, hey, hey! There's no need for any of this right now … " Rick said, his calm tone meant to soothe when he felt anything but. He was worried about Carol and that array of weapons she kept on her belt at Daryl's insistence.

          The tall Mexican sneered at Daryl before cutting his eyes over towards Rick, lifting the filthy hand which held the .38. "Cell block C, cell four … that's mine,  _gringo_. Let me in."

          Carol's hand trembled, forcing her to steady her grip and widen her stance. Her finger danced nervously along the side of the gun, itching to pull the trigger. Yet, she could feel Daryl slide against her side, never removing the tight grip he had on his own weapon. Instead of calling her down, he reassured with his warmth, trying to coax her back to him.

          "And just why th' hell would we do that? You've been pardoned by th' state of Georgia. You're free t' go … don't let th' door hit y' on th' way out," the hunter snarled, his teeth grinding with the control he was exerting. His wife wasn't the only one with a twitchy finger.

          "My block, my rules! I go where I damn well please,  _pendejo,_ " the fool took another step forward and Daryl advanced until Rick stretched his arms out between them.

          "Enough!" he bellowed, hoping he hadn't alarmed the others working so diligently on Cameron. "I don't give a damn who you are! You're not coming in here." He inched a little closer, getting in the inmate's face. "And I promise you, we've got enough to take care of the handful of you."

          Tomas cast a side-eyed look at his companion and backed off a bit, a smirk curling his thin lips. "Easy there,  _ese_ ," he said, tucking the gun into his waistband within easy reach. "Besides, nothing saying we can't share."

          The hammer of T-Dog's pistol cocked as he stepped out of the shadows by the stairs. "Yeah … not happenin'. Y'all ain't coming in here."

          Again, the pistol was in the inmate's hand. "Seems you have more than enough here," he drawled, knowing he'd have to keep an eye on the big man. He looked at each of them, knew Andrew was taking their measure as well. Rick appeared to be their leader, intent on keeping peace. Daryl and T were the muscle, but who did the woman belong to? She stood next to the redneck, probably owned him, nuts and all.  _Figures_ , he snorted. "And who's this  _mamacita_? Looks like she's got fire."

          "Don't y' fuckin' talk t' her!" Daryl yelled loud enough for the entire block to hear him, his face an angry mottled red.

          Carol eased her finger back from the hair trigger, though she didn't lower her weapon, her husband's anger the only thing strong enough to pull her out of her own. She edged closer, her voice a deadly whisper, her fear evident, but her need to reassure him more prevalent. "Daryl."

          He growled lowly and nodded for her to stay behind him instead of in full view of the inmates as she'd been before.

          Tomas huffed a laugh, seeing just what made the redneck tick. "What's the matter,  _gringo_? She your wife? Your woman? Ain't no reason we can't share, right? All that fire," he chuckled lasciviously. "End of the world, right? It's not like there's going to be a lot of opportunities for a hookup … just sayin'."

          "Sonofabitch!"

          "Daryl!" Rick bellowed, relaxing only when he saw Carol had the back of Daryl's shirt, begging him to keep a leash on his temper. He spun on his heel, facing the prisoners. "We're not going to have this bullshit with our people."

          "Yeah, whatever. All I know is we ain't going back in that cafeteria. Ten long damn months were enough," the shorter African American man spoke up. "People dying, coming back as dead cannibals. Can't do that shit again, man."

          Daryl's hands were nearly white-knuckled against the grip on his bow. "Let 'em take their chances out on th' road …  _we_  did! We took th' prison, we spilled blood, it's ours."

          Rick shook his head. "It would be a death sentence and you know it." He turned back to the prisoners. "Alright, settle down, damnit. You got any food back in that cafeteria?"

          Tomas shrugged. "Little bit."

          "Here's the deal … half your food for our help clearing a block. No negotiation, no parlay, nothing, because you're not getting our block. You're gonna stay to your area and the first time I see you anywhere near the yard or our people … I'll kill you. Or let Daryl have you … whichever comes first."

          "Deal," Tomas agreed grudgingly, seeing it was the best he was going to get until he could figure out what else to do.

          "Mama?" Sophia asked, her hand inching towards her handgun as wide eyes searched out her mother She hadn't been expecting to come in for a few bottles of water and encounter these strangers.

          Carl narrowed his eyes and pulled his gun, taking a step in front of Sophia. "Dad, who are they?"

          Axel craned his neck to see the newcomers. "Damn, do y'all arm  _everybody_?"

          Carol looked fleetingly at her daughter before her gaze swung to the inmates. The one with death in his eyes, with murder and mayhem and lust as he'd looked at her … now gazed with the same malicious intent at Sophia. A tremor tripped up her spine, and in her mind, she could see every single time Ed had looked at her the same way.

          The inmate's mouth curled into a sickening grin. "Who's this princesita? Yours? Maybe she'll be friendly where you won't –"

_Bam!_

          "Carol!" Daryl caught her around the waist as she unloaded four slugs into the inmate's head. She didn't hear him, the .45 slipping numbly from her hand as she collapsed.

          The children were running forward, T-Dog sprinting after Andrew as he headed back into the tombs before he could be shot too, preferring to take his chances with the walkers. The remaining inmates were ordered to their knees, the ginger begging pitifully for his life, but Daryl cursed and lifted Carol in his arms to take her to the perch. Carl was with his father, and Shane was within shouting distance. He wasn't abandoning them. If it were his decision, he'd finish the rest of them, eliminate the threat … whatever it took to keep his girls safe. Unfortunately, Rick was a bit less bloodthirsty and a lot more diplomatic.

 

*.*.*

 

          Lori blanched, breaking off from the group who'd gathered outside the clinic awaiting word from Sprite and Hershel on Cameron's condition. Daryl hurried past her, his attention focused on the unconscious form of his wife safely nestled in his arms. He looked wild, feral, and more dangerous than she'd ever seen him. For a morning which had begun on a positive note, things had gone to hell mighty quickly. Now, one of their own had been bitten – losing his arm at the elbow in the process in an attempt to save his life – survivors had been found locked away in the cafeteria, and Carol had collapsed, Lori thought, fighting off a wave of panic.

          She followed Sophia upstairs, making the landing in time to see Daryl lay Carol gently upon their makeshift pile of mattresses and blankets. Lori knelt down on the right, Daryl to the left, and reached for the yellow quilt. "What happened to her? Rick said survivors were found below. Did one of those animals attack her?" she asked, helping him spread the quilt over Carol's prone form.

          "Nah … they never got near her," he replied absently, tucking the ends of the blanket around her shoulders. "I think it was jus' too much, an' she fainted or somethin'."

          Sophia cradled her mother's head in her lap, her eyes glistening with tears as she searched Daryl's face for answers. "Daddy, who are those men? W-Why would she -" She couldn't continue, still in a state of shock to have witnessed her mother shoot someone in cold blood.

          Daryl wrapped an arm around her thin shoulders and pulled her into his chest, offering silent support, unsure if he could find the words to explain away her mother's actions. "She was tryin' t' protect y', Soph."  
          Lori took Carol's hand in hers and patted it gently, her fingers coming to rest against the strong pulse in her wrist. "Daryl, why don't you start at the beginning, and tell us what the hell is going on? As much as we've all seen and done since this all started, I've never known Carol to faint."

          He wanted to tell her to piss off, to leave him be with his wife and daughter, but he had to remember who Lori Grimes was. Who she was to his family … to his wife and daughter. She wasn't just a nosy busybody looking to insert herself into their business. She'd been the first person to extend a hand of friendship to Carol when they'd found the quarry, something she hadn't had in a long time because of Ed. Carol loved her like a sister, and despite his less than friendly feelings towards her most of the time, he was grateful to her for that, and couldn't just blow her off. Sophia's pleading gaze helped to make up his mind.

          Daryl swiped a hand over his face, resigned. "Y' can imagine what it was like down there … cold, dark, scary horror movie, right? Now imagine it ten times worse. A herd trapped in a maze o' corridors. It didn't matter that we knew where we were goin', or how well we know how t' fight these things. We got cut off, got careless, an' Cam got bit before I could pull him back," he murmured, his voice thick with self-disgust.

          "Daryl, Hershel's optimistic about his chances. Every one of you knew it was a risk to go down there. This is  _not_  your fault," Lori insisted, more than aware of the hunter's penchant for taking blame upon his own shoulders.

          "If he survives, it's 'cause Rick didn't lose his head. Gotta give him that. We busted up into th' cafeteria, 'bout two dozen walkers on our ass, and Rick didn't hesitate. Him an' Shane laid Cam out on th' floor and hacked off his arm like it wasn't nothin'." He'd formed a new level of respect for the man, and he wasn't afraid to admit it. "Didn't expect to find survivors down there."

          "How many?"

          Daryl peeked at her from beneath his fringe of bangs. "Five."

          "Are they going to be a problem?" Lori asked, sitting back on her knees, her fingers fidgeting nervously. She, for one, wasn't thrilled at the thought of strangers – convicts – walking amongst them, especially around the children.

          "No. We ain't lettin' them nowhere near our group," he hissed, his gaze searching out his daughter's sweet face. "But two of them aren't gonna be a problem any longer."

          "What? Why?"

          "Because Mama shot one of them," Sophia said softly, ducking her head back onto her father's shoulder.

          "Oh, god!"

          "They followed us back up here. Their leader, stupid bastard, thought he was gonna come up here a take charge, push us all around. Pfft," he scoffed. "Didn't take him long t' see that shit wasn't happenin'. He pushed me, pushed Rick … hell, he even pissed off Dog." He glanced down at the angelic face of his sleeping wife and sighed. "I ain't never seen Carol react t' a stranger like that though. She'd barely set eyes on him before she was drawin' down on 'im. Not th' others … jus' him."

          Lori's lips quirked up on one side. "Have you ever known anyone who can read people like Carol can? Something in his face must've set off some kind of inner alarm, some trigger, and she's just as protective of this group as you are, Dixon."

          Daryl dropped his head to rest his cheek against Sophia's crown. He could still recall the way Carol had frozen at his side, a tremor in her hand and fear sparking beneath her skin. She'd been afraid of Tomas. He'd wanted to kill the fucker for the simple reason that he'd caused such fear in her. She'd just beat him to it.

          "She was handlin' it. She was ok –"

          "Until me and Carl came in from watch to grab a few bottles of water," Sophia said. "He looked at me funny and said something about wanting to know if I was going to be friendly, and …"

          Lori gasped, finishing for the girl. "And Carol lost it."

          Daryl dropped a kiss to Sophia's soft curls and set her away from him. "Baby girl, why don'tcha go get a wet cloth an' a bottle of water for your mama for when she wakes up, huh?"

          Sophia smirked. "You want me to go so you can talk to Lori about grownup things, don't you?"

          Daryl could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. "G'on an' jus' do as I ask … for once," he grumbled.

          "Yes, Daddy. I'll be right back."

          Sophia hurried past Rick who had silently crept up the steps while Daryl and Lori had been talking. "How is she?" he asked, dropping to one knee next to his wife. "She hasn't woken up yet?"

          Lori shook her head, reaching out to him and letting his cool hand envelop hers. "She suffered a shock, Rick. It might take her some time to come out of it. Her mind has to come to grips with what she did."

          Daryl glowered at her. "She didn't do anythin' wrong! She was protectin' our daughter."

          "But she still took a life. She didn't put down a walker, Daryl … she took a  _human_  life," Lori said gently. "Carol is not a murderer and yes, she was defending her daughter, but it's still bound to affect her. She's never harmed anyone before, and it's going to prey on her conscience, but she's strong enough to handle this. She has all of us to help her. Just as we've all be helping Carl."

          Rick dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes. "God, I hate what this world is turning us into."

          "Yeah," Daryl spat bitterly, "but it ain't like we got a choice."

          "Well, we've got another problem to worry about." At Daryl's narrow-eyed look, he elaborated. "Andrew … the inmate who ran off; he's missing. T said he chased him past the infirmary and out into the courtyard behind D block. Closed the door on him and left him out there, figured he'd let the walkers handle the problem, but when he and Shane went back to check, there were no remains. Shane thinks he might have slipped out the breach behind the prison."

          Daryl shook his head, his mouth twisted into a thin leer of disgust. "Are y' fuckin' shittin' me, Grimes?! We ain't already got enough t' worry about? There's still the Marines to inform about what happened t' Cam, a block t' clear out for those inmates y' made a deal with, an' now we're gonna have t' post extra guards because one o' those assholes is on the loose prob'ly plottin' some kind o' revenge for what we did t' his friend!"

          Lori shrugged her dark brows and sighed. "Another typical day at  _Chez Apocalypse_."

          "Not helpin', Olive Oyl," the hunter growled.

          Rick regained his feet to be on an even playing field with Daryl who'd begun to pace restlessly next to the bed he shared with Carol. "The Marines are back. They're with Cam now. I've already explained what happened down in the tombs." He watched Daryl's shoulders slump dejectedly and he reached out a comforting hand to his friend. "They don't blame you, Daryl. They had a few close calls themselves while looting the infirmary. Jamie said he's just glad Cameron's going to pull through."

          "Yeah, well they weren't there, were they? They didn't see what happened … they didn't see I couldn't get t' him in time."

          Rick opened his mouth again to argue, but Lori shook her head. They both knew just how stubborn Daryl could be when he saw himself at fault, whether he was actually to blame or not. "Shane and Glenn are waiting with the inmates for us in the common room while T is out searching for Andrew. I need you on this, brother. The sooner we get them squared away in their own block, the sooner we can get those supplies squirrelled away up here."

          He stared at Rick a long moment before glancing down at the prone form of his wife, torn between duty to his group and the desperate need he felt to be with Carol when she opened her eyes. "I cain't jus' leave her … what if … damnit, she's gonna need me!" he growled anxiously, running a hand over the back of his head.

          "I need you, too, Daryl, and you know Lori won't leave her side. I would never drag you away from her if it wasn't important. We  _must_  get those men locked away from our group." He could see he was fighting a losing battle. "Would Carol want those convicts running loose in the block … overnight where our children sleep?"

          Daryl's steely blue eyes pierced Rick with such a look of loathing, it brought new meaning to the phrase 'if looks could kill'. "You're a right foul asshole, y'know that, Rick?" The man nodded and hid a relieved sigh as the hunter turned to face Lori, pointing one long finger under her nose. "Y' don't leave her side, woman, y' hear? Not for a second."

          Lori shot him a reassuring smile. "I promise, and if she doesn't wake soon, I'll have Hershel take a look at her. She's in good hands, I swear."

          He hefted his crossbow and nodded, taking her at her word.  _Shit's gettin' deep around there, boy. Hope y' packed yer waders._  Now was not the time to be hearing his brother's voice niggling at the back of his mind.

 

*.*.*

 

          Alexandra startled and dropped her ladle as Daryl stormed into the common room, heavily slamming the barred door behind him. He hadn't meant to scare the girl, but the anger riding him like a demon wouldn't allow him to stop and apologize. It had taken hours to clear the corridors leading to D block, an unending stream of the undead around every corner. Hours he'd been forced to be away from his wife, and the anxiety beating along with his pulse beneath his skin had nearly consumed him.

          The remaining inmates were fucking useless, much as the quarry group had been before Rick had asked him to train them, much like the Marines had been at first. But he hadn't been forced to train them with  _live_  walkers their first go, either. Oscar had shown promise, taking direction and listening to Daryl and Rick's instruction. Axel was a cowering pussbag! It had taken the threat of a bolt to his ass to get the ginger to find his balls and do as he'd been told. Big Tiny, however, had let his fear overcome him. It had caused him to become sloppy and let a walker get the drop on him. He'd been scratched just below his left shoulder, a deep gash which needed stitches, but what was the point in using up their precious medical supplies on a dead man?

          Rick had tried to explain there was no hope for the man, no way to amputate where he'd been wounded. It was only a matter of time. Still, he'd hated the thought of having to put the man down and had sent Glenn to ask Hershel to have a look at him once D block was cleared. How many times had they all been covered in walker gore? Sophia liked to speculate over what really caused a person to turn, her love of science never waning despite her and Carl's lack of school lessons. They knew for certain a bite or natural death caused a person to turn, but they were unclear on scratches. The big man had been scratched with a bone from the forearm of the walker, leaving his fate uncertain.

          When a walker fed, its hands were constantly shoveling flesh into its mouth, saliva coating its nails. Perhaps a scratch from its fingernails could cause infection where an exposed bone could not? Daryl shook his head. He could drive himself crazy pondering such things. Regardless, the inmates were on a death watch in D. He was likely to be sent over there to check on them and find all three of them turned.  _Good riddance!_  he snorted, making his way towards the stairs leading up to his perch.

          Lori had remained true to her word, keeping a close eye on Carol and Sophia from where she sat at the top of the stairs. He reached out a hand to tip the bill of Carl's hat as he passed him on his way up. There was no reason to take out his anger on the boy … not today at least. The brunette rose to her feet when she heard him approach, hurrying down to meet him.

          "How is she? She wake up?" he asked, worriedly. He didn't know what he'd do if she didn't come out of this fugue she was in. One look in Lori's anxious brown eyes had him pulling away, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

          "Carol's awake, but she won't talk to anyone … not even Sophia. She simply sits there, holding onto her, but she won't say anything. Hershel says she's going to be fine, physically, but it may take more time for the mental scars to heal."

          Daryl cursed under his breath. "This is why I shoulda been here instead of babysitting a bunch o' convicts!" he hissed furiously.

          "She's strong, Daryl. It's something we might all be called to do before it's all over, taking a life. Right now, she's afraid, I think … afraid of how you're going to react to what she did. Talk to her."

          He nodded and mumbled a thanks to her as Lori made her way downstairs to be with her own family, her gaze locked with Rick's as he entered the block. Daryl didn't wait around to watch her go, anxious to check on his wife. She laid upon their bed, Sophia curled up sound asleep at her side, Carol's fingers idly carding through the girl's soft golden locks. Her eyes were red and tear-stained, and he fretted over how pale she looked.

          A small sob escaped her parted lips as she looked up to meet his gaze, her free hand reaching out to him. He dropped his crossbow next to the bed and sat heavily beside her, gathering her trembling frame into his arms. Sophia snuffled softly in her sleep and rolled over onto her other side without waking. Carol dissolved into tears as his hand cupped the back of her head and pressed it into the crook of his neck, offering her what comfort he could. "It's ok, baby, I'm here," he crooned softly.

          Carol's arms wrapped tightly around him, her hands fisting into the back of his jacket. She shivered as she breathed him in, needing his warmth to chase away the chill in her bones. "I-I'm sorry," she whispered.

          Daryl ran his calloused hand over her soft silver curls and shook his head. "Ain't nothin' t' be sorry for," he said, relieved she'd found her voice.

          Carol pulled back far enough to stare incredulously into his eyes, taking note of the stubborn set of his jaw. "Daryl … I killed someone. You can't get much more wrong than that."

          He gnawed anxiously at the inside of his lip, his tongue tied in knots as he fought for his words. "Y' didn't go out there and slaughter a fam'ly o' four at th' church social, Carol. This was a convict who was already in here servin' his time. Instead o' bein' grateful t' have been liberated from that cafeteria, he came up here tryin' his damnedest t' cause trouble. He coulda been in here for murder for all we know."

          Daryl kicked off his boots and turned around to rest his back against the wall. Carol held her silence until he'd maneuvered her between his spread legs to lay across his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin. "It doesn't matter why he was in here, Daryl. I murdered someone in cold blood."

          "Really?" he scoffed. "Cold blood? Looked t' me like y' did your fair share o' hesitating before y' pulled that trigger." His fingers kneaded the knot of tension along her nape, giving her time to heed his words. "Why don't y' tell me what set y' off about him in th' first place. I  _know_  y', woman, an' y' ain't th' type to act without havin' a reason."

          Carol shuddered and burrowed deeper against his chest. Her hand reached behind her, seeking out her daughter, the bubble of panic easing behind her breastbone as she felt Sophia's solid warmth stretched out next to Daryl. "When I first saw that man … all I could see was Ed. The cold cruelty in his eyes reminded me of him and I drew my gun on instinct. I knew I needed to protect myself." She drew in a quavering breath and let it out slowly, refusing to let the cold fear which had gripped her take root once more. "I was ok after the shock wore off, Daryl. I could see you and Rick and T wouldn't allow him to harm any of us. Then …"

          He tipped her chin up with a gentle finger, his gaze filled with barely controlled fury. "Then he said what he did t' Sophia."

          Her fingers tightened, twisting fiercely in the worn fabric of his shirt. "I remembered the way Ed used to look at her, saw the way  _this_  man looked at her, and I couldn't allow it to happen again. I had to protect her, Daryl. The world is falling apart; there are no kindly police officers to call. There is no one but us. And now I'm a murderer. Rick's going to make us leave the group. I mean, how can he trust me after this?!" she hissed frantically.

          Rick snorted from the top of the stairs. "Well, I came to check on you and tell you dinner was ready, but now it seems we might need to have a chat, hm?"

          Carol ducked her head as she felt Daryl tense beneath her. "I … I'd understand if you wanted me to leave," she said in a small voice.

          Rick knelt down beside the bed and took her hand in his, ignoring the venomous gaze Daryl shot him, daring him to upset her further. "Carol, don't you realize how important you are to this group? We love you. You keep us organized, fed, clean, and on top of all that, you're there to listen when any of us need counsel. You are the heart of this group."

          Her heart swelled, and her eyes misted with fresh tears to hear him praise her in such a way. Even Daryl relaxed to see his friend acknowledge her role amongst them.

          "If you hadn't taken action … it was just a matter of time until one of us ended Tomas. He was too set on taking the prison from us," Rick continued. "You did us a service, Carol. I know it's hard for you to think of taking a man's life, and we will all be here for you whenever you need us, but don't torture yourself over this."

          Carol grunted as Daryl's arms tightened around her. "See, woman … knew he wasn't gonna ask y' t' leave. Lori would beat his ass."

          Rick chuckled. "That she would." He slapped a hand to his thigh and pushed himself to his feet. "Now, y'all need to come downstairs and have some of that wonderful stew Alex has been making all afternoon. Today was a good day and we need to be thankful for it."

          Daryl nudged Sophia awake and got her moving down the stairs with her mother before he fell into step beside Rick. "Did y' post extra watch duty for tonight? I don't like th' idea of that little shit, Andrew, runnin' free on th' grounds. Ain't no tellin' what he's gonna get up to."

          "All three towers are manned come dark and a patrol on the fences."

          Daryl nodded. He couldn't ask for more at the moment, but he wasn't going to rest easy until he knew the bastard was dead.

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl's eyes slowly fluttered open, narrowing slightly as he listened to his surroundings. Dawn's first light barely filtered through the barred windows overheard, making the silence of the cell block more reasonable to his sleep-addled mind. Having the warm presence of his wife in his bed was incentive enough to seek it out, but he was still the last to bed down at night and the first to rise every morning. He'd been this way even before the outbreak, a defense mechanism ingrained in him since he'd been a child against his father. Now, he had a group to protect, a family who needed him to be vigilant. And if he were honest, he couldn't rest well with that convict on the loose.

          It had been two days since they'd found the inmates in the cafeteria, two days since Carol had taken a stand and ended Tomas, two days since Andrew had run off and disappeared. With the number of walkers still roaming the tombs and courtyards, there should have been no escape for the little man, yet they'd found hide nor hair of him. It wasn't as if they hadn't looked, either. He and Rick had mobilized everyone to take stints down in the tombs, clearing out as many walkers as possible. The bodies were piling up outside the fences, ready for burning – which would have to be done soon if they were going to ever get rid of the stench of death and decay. There was so much work still to be done, and he was constantly distracted, wondering when the little bastard would make his move. He'd known men like him before, and there was no doubt in his mind … they hadn't seen the last of him. It was just a matter of time.

          At least the liberated inmates were sticking to their deal and remained confined to their own block. Hershel had begun the habit of checking on Big Tiny twice a day. The big man had a nasty infection from his wound, but he hadn't turned. Sophia had crowed proudly to everyone who would listen that her theory had been proven correct. Rick was pissed because Hershel was using up their limited supply of antibiotics to treat someone who wasn't a part of their group. Lori had scoffed at him, praying he would never get separated from the group, wounded and at the mercy of strangers … because karma was a fickle bitch.

          "Stop thinking so hard," Carol whispered, pressing her cold nose against his throat and making him shiver. "It's too early."

          Daryl snorted and pulled the quilt higher to tuck around her shoulder. He couldn't wait for warmer months when they wouldn't have to wear so many layers to bed. He could only be grateful for milder temperatures in southern Georgia compared to other parts of the country. He dropped a kiss to her soft silver curls and pressed himself flush to her. "Jus' got a lot on m' mind. Y' sleep ok?"

          Carol hummed a soft reply, burrowing her hands beneath his shirt to press against the warmth of his chest. "Mmhm … I only got up once to check on Beth and Sophia. You know how our daughter likes to kick the covers off in the middle of the night and wake up freezing."

          He lifted his head to peek into the cell across from the perch to see their girl wrapped up like a burrito on her bunk. "Told her she could sleep with us, but she wanted t' be in there with Beth. Them two are thick as thieves." He rolled over onto his side, taking her with him, his lips finding hers in a sweet nibbling kiss.

          Thoughts of her daughter's sleeping habits fled her mind as his hot tongue darted past her lips to dance with hers. Her hands roamed over his heated flesh beneath his shirt, mapping out all the spots she knew fired his blood. It had been so long since she'd been able to touch him like this, something always getting in the way of them being together lately, and it was a little slice of heaven to have him in her arms. She curled her leg over his hip, giving him more room to settle into the cradle of her thighs, his arousal hot and hard against her core.

          His kiss was frantic with need, deepening, consuming them both with wanton heat, and he lost himself to her. He thought back to their last night at the colonial, the last time they'd made love, when she'd had him nearly begging for her touch. What he wouldn't give to have that again.

          Carol tensed as his hand trailed a path down her body to cup her mound through the yoga pants she'd worn to bed. "Daryl …" she hissed nervously, dragging her lips from his as her fingers curled over his wrist to pull him away. "Daryl, we can't … not here. Someone will see!"

          Daryl grimaced, looking as if someone had taken away his favorite toy … on Christmas morning. Finally, he groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder. "But … but everyone's still asleep," he grumbled. If his blood wasn't so ablaze with desire, he would be able to see the logic in her statement. He was the last person who would want the others to happen upon them in the middle of sex.

          Her fingers carded through his hair. "We don't need to stop, love."

          His head shot up, a hopeful smile curling his mouth.

          "We can just go find an empty cell where we could have a little privacy."

          Daryl's face fell as a shudder rippled through him, and he flopped over onto his back, the mood gone. "No, I ain't makin' love t' my wife in a fuckin' cage," he hissed, averting his gaze from her probing eyes.

          Carol bit her lip and watched him, propping herself up on her elbow. "Are you saying you aren't going to touch me the entirety of our stay here? Daryl, we don't know how long that's going to be."

          "'Course not," he scoffed. "There's other places around here … jus' not in a fuckin' cell, Carol."

          Her brow knitted into a puzzled frown. "It's not like the others haven't taken advantage of their cells – not from what I've been hearing at least. And I don't think anyone in this group is brave enough to try to lock us in while we're distracted."

          "No," he hissed, adamant in his refusal.

          "Why? I know you've never been to jail; Merle told me. Are you claustrophobic?" she asked, trying to make sense of his hatred of the cells. Thinking back, the only time she could remember him going into one was to pull the kids out, and then he'd been in high temper and not thinking of exactly where he was.

          Daryl scrubbed his hand over his face and shot her a pained look. "Why cain't y' jus' let this go?"

          Carol trailed her fingers gently over the side of his face. "Because I love you, and I don't want you to hide your fears from me." She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips. "You don't let me hide from you."

          "It's stupid."

          She shook her head. "I'm sure it's not stupid. Are you afraid I'll laugh at you?"

          He nodded. "Maybe … I don't know."

          "Have I ever laughed at you before? Have I ever made you feel less than a man, Daryl?"

          "No." He knew he was being silly, letting doubt cloud his judgment. Carol had never been anything but kind and sweet to him, listening with an open mind and compassionate heart. She would never laugh at him. "I know y' won't laugh, but I still feel stupid tellin' y' this."

          Carol nestled into his side and rested her head against his shoulder, thinking perhaps if she weren't staring at him it would make it easier to talk to her.

          Still, it took him several minutes to get his thoughts together. "I was about nine, I guess, when they built the new police station. The old one was decrepit as all hell an' falling down, so instead of repairing it, th' town council voted t' build a new one. O' course, Merle wanted t' get in there an' have a look around before they tore it down, see if there was anythin' left. Talked me into goin' with him." He paused, gnawing on the inside of his lip. "Thought it would be funny t' shut me up in one o' th' cells. Wasn't so amused when he couldn't find th' damn keys t' let me out. Left me there t' go get help. Jackson was pissed. Came down there, jimmied open th' cell … thought everythin' would be ok."

          Carol's breathing hitched, almost afraid to hear what he'd say next.

          "Nah … beat both our asses for bein' down there an' shoved Merle into th' cell with me. Left us there til th' next night before he fessed up t' Drew. Laughed about what he'd done t' us. Drew was fit t' be tied when he came t' let us out. Never thought Merle was gonna stop apologizin', but I made myself a promise if I ever got out, I wasn't goin' back in."

          Carol brushed angrily at her tears. "It's not stupid, Daryl. You were a kid, and you deserved so much better. You must have been terrified, even with Merle there with you."

          Daryl smirked bitterly and shrugged, brushing away the rest of her tears. "Jus' how my dad was. Sure he's roastin' in hell for bein' such a bastard. But that's why I don't want t' pick a cell for us. I'm sure once this place is cleared out, we'll find somewhere t' call our own. Th' perch'll do for now."

          Carol groaned as she heard the alarm on Rick's watch sound downstairs, knowing it was time to start breakfast. She leaned in to kiss her husband before reaching for her boots. "No cell," she agreed. "We'll make do."

 

*.*.*

 

 _"We've all got work to do today, Daryl, and I can't do mine if you're hovering,"_  

          He would not allow himself to believe those were the last words he'd ever hear from Carol's sweet lips. He  _couldn't_ , it would break him. Go to work, she'd said with a gentle nudge out the door. We'll be fine, she'd said. And thirty minutes later, all hell had broken loose. He, Glenn and Rick had been gathering firewood, preparing to burn the walkers they'd dumped beyond the fences. Jamie had urged Cameron from his sickbed out into the courtyard for some fresh air – which would do him some good, Daryl had to admit. The kids milled around the picnic table, cleaning weapons and laughing amongst themselves, something rarely heard in such trying times. Lori and Carol sat with them, sorting and mending clean laundry. It should have been a good day.

          Carl's shout, alerting them of walkers loose in the courtyard, had taken them all by surprise. He barely remembered Rick's cry to Lori to get the kids inside, nor their mad sprint along the dog run to get back to help them. It was all a blur. When they'd finally gotten there, the alarms were blaring, Rick glaring daggers at Axel and Oscar who'd come out of their block to see what was going on. Their people had been driven further into the prison, and it was Rick's responsibility to get the generators shut down before the main gate somehow opened and let in more walkers. Chaos!

          Daryl mentally shook himself as he looked down at Andrew's body, spitting on him for good measure. For a minute there, he'd been afraid Oscar would shoot Rick with his own gun, but at the last second, he'd turned it on the convict who'd caused so much trouble. There was no way he'd be able to turn them out now.

          Daryl grabbed Rick by the back of his collar and shoved him towards the door. "C'mon, man, we've got t' find th' others," he yelled, hoping he had the sense to keep up.

          "Daryl, slow down … you're going to run right into a pack of walkers at this rate."

          The hunter looked back to find Oscar covering their six and his estimation of the man rose several degrees. "Don't care. We need t' find our wives, our kids," he panted, taking a corner and nearly running into Glenn and Axel.

          "Glenn!" Rick rushed forward and reached out a hand to his shoulder. "Have you seen any of the others?"

          "No, it's clear this way," he replied, trying to get a handle on his own panic with Maggie missing.

          "There," Daryl pointed to a door opening at the end of the hall which led to the outside. "Shane! Fuck … he's got Lori." And he didn't look to be moving all too steadily, not like he knew the man to move. The kids were holding the door open for him, and Randall looked as if he were helping to support him.

          "LORI!" Her name tore from Rick's throat as he darted down the hall towards his family, Daryl and the others hurrying behind him. Rick burst through the door and took Lori from Shane in time to see his best friend collapse to his knees, his chest heaving. "What happened?"

          Carl laid a hand on his father's arm, drawing his attention. "She's ok, dad. We had to hide out in the boiler room and Mom whacked her head on a pipe. Knocked herself out."

          Glenn rushed over to Maggie, enveloping her in his arms as he checked her over for injury. "Randall and I were carrying her out of there when Shane found us," she explained to them.

          "Rick …" Shane rasped. "Andrea … we got swarmed. I-I'm sorry, brother."

          A choked sob broke free from Rick, despite the hand which rose to cover his mouth with he saw the gaping bite wound in Shane's side. "No …. " He brushed the tears away from his friend's dark eyes. "No … "

          "Hey, don't. Don't do this to yourself, Rick. We knew it was gonna happen sooner or later. Just … just don't let me turn." He swallowed thickly against the emotion clogging his throat. "Take care of Lori and the kids."

          "You know I will. Shane …"

          Sophia ran the distance between them and tackled Daryl around his waist. "Daddy! Thank god, you're safe," she sobbed, burying her face against his chest. "Did you see Mama? We can't find her."

          "What?" he asked, a loud ringing beginning in his ears. "She didn't come back? Who was she with?"

          Sophia stared up at him with wide eyes as he gripped her upper arms. "With T and 'Tricia … and I think Tori."

          Hershel finished doing a head count. "Everyone else is here Daryl, except for the four missing. Someone is going to have to bring Andrea's body from the tombs as well. We can't leave her down there."

          The side door opened, and a tear-streaked Patricia, her clothes covered in blood, stumbled out into the sunlight to fall into Beth's arms. Sprite knelt beside her, checking her for injury. "I-It's not mine. Theodore … he's gone. He sacrificed himself to save us."

          Daryl whipped his head around so fast, the bones in his neck cracked. "Us who? Carol? Where is she?"

          Patricia tried to make herself understood through her sobs. "S-She was with Tori when we got separated. I don't know which way she went, Daryl. I'm sorry. I barely made it out myself. There were so many … I don't think they made it."

          "NO! NO!" he wailed, willing his limbs not to succumb to the numbness threatening. He couldn't believe his Carol, his wife … no, he couldn't even think it.

          "Daddy … where are you going?" Sophia called after him brokenly as he stormed across the courtyard, heading towards the door Patricia had just come through.

          Daryl made himself stop and crouched down before his daughter, his hands cradling her precious face in his palms, his thumbs tracing muddy tracks through her tears. "Need y' t' stay here, baby girl, with Rick and Lori … and Carl. Stick close t' Carl, he'll keep y' safe ‘til I get back."

          Her eyes widened, fresh tears falling from her lashes. She knew he had to have been just as frightened for her mother as she was if he was asking her to stick close to Carl. "Daddy …"

          Daryl pressed his lips to her brow and hugged her fiercely. "I'll bring her back, sweetheart. Trust me."

          "Make sure you come back too." She threw her arms around his neck and wept against his throat. "Please, Daddy … I need you."

          "Daryl!" Rick called after him.

          The hunter hefted his crossbow over his shoulder and ignored Rick. Unmindful of the tears streaming over his dirty features, his eyes bloodshot and filled with a darkness no one in the group had ever witnessed, he paused with his hand on the door. His light was missing, and it was by pure strength of will he remained standing. "I'm going to find my wife."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Yes, I'm evil. Please review!


	63. Chapter 63

 

          Life had never been kind to the Dixons. Daryl knew pain … unspeakable pain which came with years of abuse. However, no broken bone, no sprain, bruise or cut … not even the visceral lacerations of his father's acerbic tongue could come close to the soul deep ache splintering his heart apart. Misery loves company, for with the pain came the rage. Rage, he knew, his constant friend. It kept the tears at bay, and the panic. It forced him to focus as he methodically made his way along the dank, dark corridors of the tombs.

          He didn't bother with his bow, its solid weight heavy on his back. As the long blade of his hunting knife rammed into the first walker's skull, he relished the crunch of bone which reverberated along his forearm, and reveled in the cold wash of dead blood against his flesh. After a lifetime of having everything he'd loved ripped away from him, it was hard to have faith Carol was still alive. And he  _did_  love her, more than anyone or anything he'd ever dared love before. She and Sophia were his world. How were they expected to go on without her?

          A low growl rumbled deep in his chest as he stared at the slain walkers littering the concrete floor. He ignored the men following behind, Jamie and some of his Marines, Glenn. He knew he was scaring them in the state he was in, but he couldn't find it within himself to care. The need to find his wife, despite his doubts, consumed him.

          Daryl left the others behind, facing a new corridor … the same which would take him past the boiler room. It had provided sanctuary for Lori, Maggie and the children, but not for his Carol. Tears gathered in his eyes, and he swiped angrily at them, smearing the blood on his face. He snarled at the two walkers who thought to corner him against the wall, pushing one back while dispatching the other. He came back to the first, the bloodlust heavy upon him as he twisted the knife and drove it deeper, taking immense satisfaction in hearing bone and sinew give way beneath his blade. He was beginning to lose count of his kills. Yet, the number didn't matter. He could slay a countless horde and it wouldn't drive the pain of losing her from his mind.

          With a curse, he drew his pistol, landing a headshot to each of the walkers crouched over the fallen body of one of their family. Daryl dropped to a knee beside what was left of T-Dog's body and laid his hand on the man's brow. There was so much he wanted to say.  _Thank y' for watchin' out for Carol. Thanks for bein' m' friend even though m'' brother is a racist asshole. We'll miss your big heart an' kind nature …_ but no words would pass his lips for his friend.

          Glenn was hesitant to approach Daryl, but he had no choice. Their fallen friends and family took precedence. The bodies needed to be removed and wrapped for burial before they were set upon by more of the dead, and put down before they could turn.

          He flinched as a comforting hand came to rest on his shoulder, his eyes dull as they met Glenn's. "We've got him, Daryl. Go … find them. If anyone can, I know it'll be you." Daryl nodded, rising to his feet and continuing on his way.

          Jamie watched him go with a fretful gaze. "I should go with him. I need to find Tori just as much as he needs to find his wife. He shouldn't have to do this alone," he said, gaining several looks of agreement from his men.

          Glenn shook his head where it was bowed over T-Dog, tears falling unabashedly over his lashes. "You don't know Daryl. This is something he's going to have to do alone. We can only follow behind him to clean up the mess." He took a sheet from Miles and began to cover T's mutilated body after he'd fulfilled his part of the pact, making sure he'd remain dead. "He'll call if he needs us."

          "Perhaps you put too much faith in your friend," the sergeant said softly. Though he had great respect for the group's hunter, he didn't know him as well as the others did.

          "And maybe you don't have enough. Might want to change that."

          Several corridors away and half a dozen walkers later, Daryl leaned his back against the wall, chest heaving from his exertions and the tightening around his heart where Carol usually dwelled. He couldn't breathe, his lungs refusing to fill with the oxygen he so desperately needed. How long had it been since he'd succumbed to an anxiety attack? Yet, he knew it for what it was, his skin humming with dread. His knees gave out beneath him, his hand barely coming up to brace him before he face-planted onto the floor.

          The cool concrete pressed into his sweaty brow as he lowered it, his eyes squinching tight against the pain in his chest. It was too much; it hurt too badly, the deluge of memories flooding his mind. The first time he'd unwittingly wrung a smile from her sweet lips, the happiness he'd felt when he'd freed her from Ed and she'd become part of his family, the first time he'd brought her hunting, the bunker and their first kiss, soft touch, the elation on her face when he'd brought Sofia home to her after she'd been lost on the road. A sob broke from his throat as he remembered the first time they'd made love, their wedding, her 'saving' him from Tori's group.

 _No_ , he growled, pushing himself to his feet,  _I won't … I cain't … go on without her!_  Daryl tightened the grip he had on his knife and strode angrily down the dark hallway, vowing to find her or die trying.

 

*.*.*

 

**Earlier …**

          "Two lefts and a right …" T-Dog murmured more to himself than the women crouched behind him. He could feel Patricia trembling against his back, and his heart thundered with the need to protect her. He reached back, gripping her hand tightly as he glanced over his shoulder, meeting her luminous eyes filled with fear. "That's the way out, two lefts and then right through the door leading into the courtyard by our block."

          Carol stood behind Patricia and peered around the corridor at the walkers milling about. "That's all well and good, T, but I have a feeling they're not going to just allow us to leave."

          "There's four of us and only …" he paused to do a mental count, "eight of them. The odds are in our favor."

          Carol grimaced, not at all happy with the blind spots at the end of the corridor. It branched off in both directions, but the low light of their flashlights wasn't enough to see from their vantage point. She could practically hear Daryl's voice in her head screaming at her to find another path. "But what if there are more we can't see?" she tried reasoning with him.

          Tori leaned over Carol's shoulder to voice her own objections to his plan. "We barely escaped the last cluster of those things. We can barely see where we're going, much less what's hiding from plain sight."

          T-Dog rolled his eyes and huffed out an anxious breath. "This is the quickest route. We're gonna have to take the chance." He glanced down at Patricia, worry etched at the corners of his eyes. She had suffered through the loss of her husband and her home. It was imperative to him to get her to safety as quickly as possible, for her to survive. He was further encouraged he was making the right decision when she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "We're doing this."

          Carol and Tori shared a look, but they knew they'd have to defer to him. Out of the four of them, T had more experience with fighting walkers, both on runs and here at the prison in just the few days they'd been there. Reluctantly, both women nodded, mentally preparing themselves for the fight to come. They moved from their hiding place and followed T-Dog, sticking close to the wall until they were closer, knives gripped tightly in their hands, ready.

          The walkers were easily dealt with, the left corridor clear, but Carol couldn't shake the feeling they weren't done despite T's obvious relief. After making sure the way was indeed clear, he pushed the women ahead of him, wanting to assure himself nothing would be following them. It was then she heard Patricia cry out as she looked back to him, several more walkers spilling out of the passage behind them. Carol whipped around, her eyes wide with horror as she watched one of the geeks sink his teeth into T-Dog's shoulder while he rammed his blade into the skull of another.

          "No!" Patricia wailed, trying to shake off Tori's grasping hands. "Theodore!"

          "GO!" he yelled, holding the others back from them. "'Tricia, go, now! You can't help me!"

          She shook off Tori and ran to his side, fighting along with him. "I'm not leaving you," she cried. "Carol, take Tori and get out. I'll be there when I can. Go, they need you! Sophia  _needs_  her mama."

          Tori's fingers curled into the collar of Carol's leather jacket, pulling fretfully. "Carol, c'mon! We have to go. Don't make his sacrifice be in vain by getting your ass killed!"

          With a broken sob, Carol fired off a few shots at the advancing walkers before letting Tori pull her down the hall. T slumped against the wall, sliding down to land on his behind as his remaining strength failed him. Patricia sat beside him, tears spilling over her lashes. "Theodore … get up. We can still make it out."

          "Ain't going nowhere, sweetheart," he breathed, closing his eyes as more of his life's blood poured freely from his wound. "I can die here just as easily as I could outside. Least down here I don't have to hear everyone crying and sobbing. Things are bad enough."

          "Please … I don't want to leave you down here." Already she could hear more of the dead encroaching through the dark passageways.

          He could feel the poison of the bite moving through him, and knew he didn't have much time left. Whether from the blood loss or the infection, he knew it was just a matter of minutes. He raised his hand to her cheek, thankful to have her by his side. "I'm so glad I had a chance to know you, Patricia. You made the end of the world worthwhile."

          "Theo-"

          "I love you. Have for a while now. I'm just sorry it took me so long to tell you," he grunted, the pain worsening with each labored breath. "Please, 'Tricia … please go. I need to know you're safe with the others."

          "I don't want –"

          T snorted and gave her that boyish grin she adored. "You can't fulfill the wish of a dying man?"

          "You fight dirty, Theodore Douglas," she scolded lightly.

          "Whatever it takes." Patricia closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his and he could taste the salt of her tears. All in all, it was a good way to go. "I'll be waiting for you on the other side, sweetheart. Just make sure you don't follow too quickly."

"I l-love you, too, you silly man. You make it so e-easy." Her heartfelt cries echoed through the tombs as she watched the light fade from his eyes. Only then did she rise to make her way out, leaving a part of her heart behind with him.

 

*.*.*

 

          The darkness was oppressive, nearly choking Carol as she followed Tori through the tombs. They'd been aptly named, for she felt as if she were being buried alive. So far, she'd been able to keep her claustrophobia under control, but she didn't know for how much longer she'd be able to quell the choking panic ready to claim her. It wasn't quite bad enough to freeze her limbs, but she’d realized soon enough she hadn't been paying the attention to her surroundings she should. They were lost.

          "I think we took a wrong turn back there," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper as she trained her flashlight on the passage before them. "Shouldn't we have taken a left?"

          "He said two lefts and a right, but I still haven't seen a door leading outside. In a building like this, you'd think there'd be a damn exit sign," the woman lamented, shaking her own torch which flickered feebly.

          Carol gripped her .45 a little tighter. "I think one of our lefts might've been a right."

          Tori moved ahead of her, determined to find the way out. "Can I ask you something?"

          Carol nodded jerkily, then realized the woman wasn't looking at her. "Sure, I guess."

          "How can you be so calm? I feel like a trapped rat in a maze."

          She shivered, wishing not for the first time her husband was at her side. "Can we not say  _trapped!_  Please! I'm barely holding it together right now," Carol hissed.

          Tori turned and regarded her friend. "Oh, shit … you're not claustrophobic, are you?"

          Carol chose to change the subject, fighting to take a deep breath. "Look … there's another fork. Which way should we go?"

          Tori eyed the open cell doors lining the corridor before inching ahead. "I don't know. I wish Jamie was here; his sense of direction is so much better than mine."

          "Where are we," Carol murmured, more to herself than her companion. "These cell doors are solid steel, no bars." She peered into one shining the light over the padded walls and small bunk.

          "Solitary?"

          "Maybe. I wish I'd have gotten a closer look at the blueprints before getting stuck down –" Her voice trailed off and her ears pricked, much as they did when she was hunting with Daryl and Sophia. "Did you hear that?"

          Tori turned a puzzled frown on her as she neared the end of the hallway, not having realized Carol had stopped more than a dozen paces behind her. "Carol, c'mon. You're hearing things." She raised her hand, pointing to the right. "I think we should go this –" Her scream pierced the dank solitude, the beam of Carol's flashlight shining on the gore stained mouth of the walker which had latched onto Tori's outstretched arm.

          The soft  _pssh_  sound of the silencer on her pistol was the only thing she could hear over the rapid pounding of her heart in her ears. The walker fell limp to the floor, Carol's aim spot on, but it came too late. She could hear the anguished cries of her friend – cries which would undoubtedly bring more of the dead – and see the bloodied material on the sleeve of her thick jacket.

          Carol rushed to Tori's side and pulled her arm over her shoulders, wrapping the hand with the flashlight around her waist. Shadows shifted and moved at the edge of the light, the sounds of moans and growls from the ravenous corpses growing closer. She turned, dragging Tori along with her and felt her panic rise as more flooded the corridor behind them. They were well and truly trapped.

          "Go," the brunette commanded in a voice Carol hadn't heard since that night at the spa. "I'm screwed, but you can still get away … or at least hide in one of the cells."

          Carol shook her head frantically. "No, I'm not leaving you to be eaten by one of those things. You're coming with me."

          "There's too many of them! And I'm dead already …"

          "You're one of us, and we don't leave our family behind," Carol groaned, pushing Tori towards one of the cells. She dropped her gun as it gave an ominous click, signaling she was out of bullets. Instead of reaching for her spare, she gripped the knife on her belt and thrust it towards the nearest walker. The ones pressing against its back caused it to shift and she missed her target, the blade entering and lodging near its throat rather than beneath its chin.

          She cursed, turning swiftly on her heel and nearly diving into the cell. Tori helped her pull the door shut, the sound of numerous bodies slamming into the steel barrier causing a shudder to wrack her small form.

          Tori slumped down on the padded bench spanning the wall, a small moan escaping her throat as she peeled the camouflaged jacket from her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Carol. I was so focused on getting us out of here, I guess I wasn't watching out well enough."

          Carol rubbed at the tightness in her chest and collapsed next to the brunette. "It's not your fault. We're under extreme stress." She pressed the torch into Tori's hand and had her shine it on her wound. "I … um … I stabbed a walker and the blade got stuck … lost my knife. Daryl's going to be so pissed at me, and I can't do what Rick did for Cam."

          Tori waved dismissively. "No more than I deserve for making you leave Patricia. I know you wanted to stay."

          Carol smiled bitterly. "I did. Daryl's brother was left behind due to extenuating circumstances and it took a long time to reconnect with him. It was not an easy time for our family. But I doubt we could have pried her from T's side."

          "True. I was the same way when Joseph stayed behind and sacrificed himself for us. I wanted to stay with him." She grinned at Carol knowingly. "You'd be lying if you said you would leave Daryl."

          "Not for the wide world." She knew the woman understood. "How are you feeling," she asked, unable to ignore the tremors in Tori's hands.

          Tori leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. "Like crap."

          Carol scooted off the bench and urged her friend to lie down, folding the jacket and placing it beneath Tori's head. "You're already burning up," she said, biting anxiously at her lip. The sounds of the walkers in the corridor were diminished, but still audible. Focusing on Tori, at least, helped to keep her mind off her panic. "I'm sure they're looking for us by now."

          Tori reached out and clasped Carol's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sure they are, but it's not going to change anything for me. I really should be more upset, but I keep thinking of seeing my Joseph again. I know he's waiting for me."

          Carol brushed at the tears forming in her eyes. "Shh … of course, he is," she agreed whether she believed it or not. So much abuse at Ed's hands had made her doubt her faith a long time ago. It was finding Daryl and having his love which was slowly restoring it.

          "Tessa and Sprite are not going to deal well with my death. Will you make sure to give Tessa my jacket? It belonged to Joseph … all we have left of him really," she rambled. "I miss him so much, Carol. God, I'd do anything to have him here with me right now … I'm so scared."

          Carol dropped to her knees on the floor beside the bench and brushed a bit of Tori's dark hair from her fevered brow. "Oh, honey, don't be afraid. You're not alone."

          Tori whimpered as pain shot through the bite wound on her arm. "You shouldn't even be here with me. You should be with Daryl and your little girl." She sighed heavily and closed her eyes. "I wish I would have known you before and had the chance to be a better friend."

          "I do, too. I'm so glad you became a part of our family." She removed her jacket when Tori started shivering violently and laid it over her. The thick leather would keep her warm, she hoped. "Try to rest," Carol said softly, brushing a kiss to her friend's brow. "I'm not going anywhere."

          "Carol …"

          "Yeah?"

          "Don't let me turn," Tori whispered raggedly.

          "I won't."

          Carol closed her eyes and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. As she watched Tori drift off into a fitful sleep, she let go, giving her tears free rein. One of the flashlights flickered and died, casting them into shadow and she bit hard on her lip to quell the panic which rose to choke her. It would have reminded her of the stairwell at the bunker … but she didn't have Daryl's warm reassuring voice in her ear to chase away her fears, nor his body pressed into hers to make her see she wasn't alone. With him, she knew she was loved, safe, cherished. It was hard to cling to those feelings when she was trapped in the dark awaiting the inevitable death of her friend … awaiting her own if help didn't arrive.

 

*.*.*

 

          Sophia grimaced slightly as she skirted around Rick and placed the bowl of cool water she carried on the table beside Shane's bunk. Her hands shook, but she returned Rick's sad smile before dropping to the little pallet Carl had made in the corner of the cell for them. Nearly everyone had come by to pay their final respects to Shane, and she'd needed to get away, volunteering quickly to fetch the water for Lori.

          Carl slipped his hand into hers as she rested her head on his shoulder, twining their fingers. He took his duty of watching over her seriously while still able to be a comforting presence for his parents. "You ok?" he whispered where only she could hear over the sounds of his mother's sniffling and Shane's labored breathing.

          Sophia shook her head and burrowed deeper against him, his own head coming to rest atop hers. "I'm scared, Carl. What if Daddy doesn't find her? How …"

          He winced as her fingers tightened on his, her voice trailing away. "Don't think like that, Soph. You were missing for three days … in walker-infested woods with very little supplies, and Daryl found  _you._  If anyone can find your mom, it's him."

          Shane took a gasping breath, startling himself awake as Lori laid a cool cloth against his fevered brow. "Shh … it's ok. It's just me," she murmured raggedly, her voice hoarse from crying. "How're you feeling? Can we get you anything?"

          The man closed his eyes and swallowed audibly, shaking his head. "Was dreamin'," he rasped, "about Andrea." He looked up at her, his dark eyes filled with remorse. "Did they find her?"

          Rick laid a comforting hand on his shin where he sat at the end of the bunk with his partner's feet propped on his lap. "She was right where you said we'd find her. Miles and Brian brought her up and now Sprite and Kayla are taking care of her."

          Shane clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding against the pain evident on his face. Not the pain from his bite or the raging fever coursing through him, but for the loss of his woman. He'd thought his feelings for Lori had been the real deal, but it was nothing but a desperate attempt to salvage something after the death of someone who'd meant so much to them ... her husband, his friend. Rick's 'death' had left a gaping hole in their lives even their affair hadn't been able to fill. What he had begun to feel for Andrea surpassed the tryst he'd shared with Lori. She was smart, and could challenge his intellect, and she never failed to make him laugh. He'd been so happy with her in the short months they'd been together. He'd found his  _reason_ , and now it had been stripped away. His eyes stung with the burn of tears, and he wished he'd stayed with her down in the tombs. He didn't deserve to have his friends pay their respects or sit by his side as he breathed his last.

          He caught a glimpse of the children huddled together in their corner, and the pain worsened in his chest to have them see him that way. Shane shot a reproachful look in Rick's direction. "Why are they here? This is … they shouldn't have to see this!"

          Lori cupped his cheek in her hand and shushed him. "You really think we could drag Carl away from his Uncle Shane? And where would Sophia be but by his side … especially with Carol missing?"

          "Daryl hasn't come back with her?" he asked, his eyes wide with disbelief. He swatted her hand away and pushed himself up into a sitting position, wasting valuable energy. "Hand me my boots. Dixon ain't got no business being down there alone."

          Rick surged up from the bunk and put his hands to Shane's chest, guiding him back down to the pillows. "Calm down. You're in no shape to be out of bed, much less down in the tombs. Glenn came up just a while ago to report, and Jamie and his men are still down there. He's not alone."

          Shane snorted, following that up with a hacking cough. "Yeah," he breathed heavily, "like Daryl is gonna let them get close to him. He's got to be going out of his mind and taking chances he otherwise wouldn't. Carol's his world; he ain't gonna stop until he finds her … but he's got to think of Sophia too."

          "Shane, you need to rest. Getting upset –"

          A sharp look quelled her protests. "Lori, how much more upset can I get? I'm dying here!" he growled. "If the last thing I get to do is knock some sense into Rick's block head and send him off to help Daryl, I should be able to do it."

          Rick listened to his friend, his eyes darting to where Sophia was curled up with Carl, tears silently washing over her ashen cheeks. She held his son's hand, offering comfort when she was in desperate need of her own. He didn't want to think of what would happen if her parents didn't come back for her. He was a cop, knew firsthand how domestic abuse impacted the survivors. Sophia was strong, always had been, but she'd flourished when Daryl had stepped up and taken on responsibility for her and her mother. She now knew what it was like to have a positive paternal role model. He couldn't allow her to fall into a pit of depression from which they wouldn't be able to dig her out.

          "Shane –"

          His partner shook his head. "No! You get your ass down there and help him find Carol. Bring them both back." His face fell as another wave of pain washed over him. "And when you do, you tell Dixon to watch over my family, to watch over this baby since I won't be here to do it. We might not have always gotten along, but he's a good man. He'll watch your back."

          Lori rose to her feet, so Rick could have her spot on the edge of the bunk, tears blinding her as her husband clasped Shane's hand and pressed his brow to his. "I will … I promise."

          Shane swiped at the wetness on his face. "I'm sorry I couldn't save Andrea … and I'm sorry I can't … I can't be here for you. I couldn't have asked for a better friend," he said, unable to win the battle against his emotions. "I l-love you, brother."

          Carl shot up from the pallet and rushed to stand beside his father's weeping form. "Dad? Is he?" he asked, feeling every bit the child he really was.

          Shane cracked his eyes to look up at the boy, reaching out with his free hand to pull him in closer, cocooned between the two men who loved him so much. "Hey … it's ok, little man. Just means you gotta stay strong … be good to your mom and watch out for your dad."

          Sophia slipped unnoticed from the cell, the sound of Shane's final breaths too much for her to bear. Carl would come and find her when he noticed her missing, but he needed to be with his parents, to share his pain and grief with them. She kept her head down, averting her gaze from those of her family lingering in the block, wearily climbing the stairs to the perch. She climbed onto the bed her parents shared, and buried herself beneath her mother's quilt. Only when she was sure she was alone, her face pressed into her father's downy pillow, did she give into her own need to grieve … and pray.

 

*.*.*

 

          Rick stopped at the barred door in the common room as Carl called out behind him, hurrying to catch up with his father. "You're not going down there, Carl," he sighed, resigned to lock him in a cell if need be. They'd already suffered too much loss in a single morning; he wouldn't put his son at risk.

          Carl looked up at his father with red-rimmed eyes and just shook his head. "I wasn't going to ask," he assured him. "I need to stay with Sophia … and Mom. I think they need me more up here."

          The former deputy's brows shot to his hairline, his son's newfound maturity taking him by surprise. Just a month ago – hell, even a week ago – he would have fought tooth and nail to accompany him on such a dangerous mission. To see he was now taking his responsibilities to his Mother and partner so seriously, made his chest swell with pride for his boy. He rested his hands on Carl's shoulders and smiled. "I think they do too, son."

          The boy nodded and held out the item in his hands. "Shane gave this to me while back, but it's too big for me, and I thought it might come in handy … a little added protection down there, y'know?"

          Rick took the tactical vest which had belonged to his friend. He'd had one just like it before the turn, and remembered the little bits and bobs of nonsense Shane had liked to keep in its many pockets. The thick material would indeed be an added layer of protection worn over his thick jacket.

          Carl sniffled and averted his eyes, not wanting Rick to see how affected he'd been by Shane's death. "I can't lose you too, Dad."

          Rick donned the vest and then pulled his son close, wrapping his arms around Carl's thin shoulders. "I won't be alone down there, Carl. I'm not gonna leave you and your mom alone … I promise. It wasn't Shane's fault he and Andrea got swarmed."

          "I know. It was because of that convict." Carl looked up at his father, his gaze cold. "You should have killed him."

          "Son …"

          "Axel and Oscar aren't so bad. They're down there helping to clear out the bodies Daryl went all Vader on."

          Rick couldn't help but smile at Carl's  _Star Wars_  reference. He could imagine Dixon giving in to his dark side with Carol missing. He wasn't surprised Carl knew what was going on below. Glenn wasn't the best at keeping things under wraps … from anyone. "Yeah, well, the jury's still out on the three we let into D block." He ruffled Carl's hair and straightened his shoulders. "We'll have to make a final decision once we get this place back in order."

          "Dad … just bring him back, please. Sophia needs him."

          Rick watched him disappear back into the cell block, sure he would be heading straight for the girl. His heart was heavy as he in turn made his way into the tombs, knowing the job ahead of him wouldn't be easy. The horrid smell of death and rot made his eyes water and his nose sting as he traversed deeper into the bowels of the prison, and he made a mental note to put bleach on the list for the next run. Lots and lots of bleach. He couldn't expect their family to suffer with the filth left behind … not if they were going to make this their home for an undesignated amount of time.

          He followed the sounds of muted voices, the beam of his flashlight casting shadows on the blood-spattered walls. Axel spewed forth a steady stream of chatter as they worked, loading the bodies on a cart they'd found outside which Rick could only imagine was used on work detail around the prison. It would make hauling the bodies out of the tombs much easier.

          Miles rolled his eyes at the ginger inmate. "Man, don't you ever stop flappin' your gums?!" he hissed in exasperation. "You haven't shut up since you got down here."

          Rory heaved his burden onto the cart and snorted.

          Oscar groaned under the weight of another corpse, shaking his head.

          Brian nodded at Rick when he stepped into the light of the lantern they were using. "What can we do for you, Mr. Grimes?" he asked, moving away from the others.

          Rick arched a brow. "Told you to call me Rick. There's no need for formality." He'd tried long and hard to get the Marines to feel comfortable with the Atlanta group, but they still tended to stand on ceremony at times. Instead of arguing, he looked around the toiling men in search of the sergeant. "Where's Jamie? I thought he was down here with you all."

          "He is," Brian assured him. "He's following Dixon, scared he's going to get himself cornered." He pointed off in the direction Jamie had taken. "Take a right at the end of the hall and head towards the infirmary."

          Rick thanked him and gripped his machete a bit more tightly as he headed off in the new direction. He was relieved to know Daryl wasn't on his own down there, that he had someone to watch his back. He knew how easily it would be to give into the need to lash out. The grief and loss he felt so deeply in his soul at the death of his friend weighed heavily on him. Having to put Shane down before he could turn had been one of the most difficult things he'd ever had to do in his life, and the thought of having to one day do the same for Lori or Carl was unthinkable.

          He continued down the dark hallways, making his way around the bodies littered on the concrete floor. As he turned the corner, leaving the infirmary behind, he nearly ran into the sergeant, the barrel of his assault rifle pointed at his face.

          "Christ! Man, make some noise when you walk or something!" Jamie hissed, lowering his rifle and swiping a hand over his dirty face.

          Rick snorted at the absurdity of such a suggestion. Make noise and draw in the walkers? Not likely. Daryl was always complaining he made  _too_  much noise. He followed the sergeant's gaze as he glanced over his shoulder.

          Daryl sat on his haunches, his back against the wall, head down, shoulders slumped, the tip of his hunting knife digging idly into the floor. Rick had never seen him so defeated, not even when they'd gone back to that solitary rooftop to find Merle gone. "How long's he been like that?" he whispered to his companion.

          Jamie shrugged. "Maybe ten minutes. When he does stop to rest, it's never for long. He won't let me get close, growls like a damn bear if I try, so I've just been keeping pace with him to make sure nothing sneaks up on him."

          Rick's eyes widened as he gestured to the number of fallen walkers littering the corridors. "Are you telling me he's done all this by himself?" he asked incredulously.

          Jamie tapped a finger to his temple. "He's cracked his gourd. You ever seen a wolf lose its mate?" he asked, nodding his head at the hunter. "Ain't nothing more dangerous. He's hurting and taking it out on anything crosses his path."

          Rick sighed and stepped out from around the sergeant, measuring his steps as he approached Daryl. He advanced slowly, surprised when the hunter lowered his head more into his chest. "Daryl … brother?"

          He watched Dixon's shoulders slump more if that was possible. He crouched down in front of him, his hands clenching against his knees when he really wanted to reach out to the man, to offer him comfort and understanding, but he knew it would be refused … probably violently.

          "Shane's gone. Andrea. T-Dog," he said softly, his voice riddled with grief. He watched Daryl flinch, the blade of his knife digging deeper, the muscles of his forearm straining. "Carol and Tori … there's still hope. They're down here hiding, I'm sure."

          Red-rimmed icy blue eyes stared up at him as Daryl's head jerked up, the weight of pain in their depths making him stumble back a step before he righted himself. "Then why ain't I found 'em yet? M' wife ain't one t' hide, Rick," he sneered. "Neither is that little spitfire who leads those soldiers. Y' have any idea how it feels … thinkin' the next corner I come around I'm gonna see her coming at me wanting to take a bite outta my ass?!" His voice was broken, raspy from disuse and fighting to keep his emotions under control. "An' if I do … I … I don't know if I have th' strength t' put her down. Who's t’ say I wouldn't just let her have me?"

          Rick flinched as his friend banged his head back several times on the wall. "Daryl, you've done everything in your power to arm her, train her to fight, to take care of herself. She's not dead, brother."

          "Yeah," he murmured bitterly. "I trained the others too. And they're dead, Rick!"

          Rick gnashed his teeth. It enraged him to see Daryl take the blame for something which couldn't have been avoided. It was  _not_  his fault, but he knew Dixon wasn't in a good enough frame of mind to see it. "You think Sophia has any doubt in her mind you won't bring her mama back to her? She's up there now praying for both of you."

          Daryl's chest tightened at the mention of his daughter.

          "Every hope of finding Sophia had been lost when you brought her home. She  _knows_  you're going to find Carol too."

          Daryl swiped angrily at the tears threatening to spill over his cheeks, smearing the blood on his face in the process.

          "C'mon," Rick urged, pushing himself to his feet and holding out his hand. "You need to get cleaned up and go see your daughter. She needs to know you're ok, and she doesn't have any business seeing you like this."

          Daryl growled low in his throat, swatting Rick's hand away. "I cain't go back 'til I find Carol."

          "You can, and you will,' Rick insisted. "Half an hour. You can give her that. Then I'm going to come back down here with you and together we'll find Carol. You don't have to do this alone, brother."

 

*.*.*

 

          Rick and Jamie had stood guard outside the infirmary where clean clothes and hot water had been provided for Daryl to get cleaned up. It had taken two buckets to rid himself of the grime and gore coating his body. He doubted his clothes were even salvageable, except for the leather jacket and his vest. He'd slipped on a clean pair of cargos – the olive green Carol favored – and a fresh button up which still had its sleeves. He could only figure it had come from the last run they'd made, and his wife had hoarded it back for later use. Once he looked more like himself instead of a wild beast – he'd sworn there for a minute Rick was going to check behind his ears – the pair of do-gooders soldier-marched him back to the common room.

          He might have grumbled all the way, but he was anxious to see his daughter. He needed to comfort and reassure her he'd find her mother. He had a goal now, something which would ease the pain threatening to eat him alive from the inside. She slammed into him, wrapping around him like a squid as he hefted her into his arms the moment he entered the common room.

          It was as if she were just waiting for him before she felt she could let go of her own pain. Pain shared was pain lessened, Carol had told him long ago. God, how he needed her to take away his own. He sat down at one of the tables, nodding his thanks at Alex as she put a bowl of leftover stew and a bottle of water before him. He ignored the food, grimacing at the thought of his roiling stomach, but he quickly drained the bottle.

          "You didn't find her," Sophia whispered against his neck when her tears had slowed.

          "Not yet, baby girl, but soon." He felt tears prick his eyes at the sight of her tear-stained face and was happy Rick had cleared the room for them. He hated nothing more than the thought of having his pain on display … or Sophia's. "I'm gonna find her, but I had t' come check on y'."

          She glanced over his shoulder to where Carl hovered anxiously by the door. "I'm ok, Daddy. Carl's with me."

          Daryl nodded, trailing a calloused hand over her soft hair where her head returned to his shoulder. "He'll guard you with his life. The two of you are strong together," he admitted ruefully. "He needs you just as much as y' need him. It's good t' know I don't have t' worry about y' while I'm down there."

          "I was scared when you didn't come back. I thought … I was afraid something had happened to you, too," she said, her voice trembling.

          The breath hitched in his chest, but he pushed away the rage building. He wished he could kill that little bastard all over again for causing his daughter's fright. "I'll always come back to you, Sophia. So, will Carol." He was starting to believe it, the more he sat there holding her. Their little girl had a way of restoring his faith when he'd thought it was lost.

          "I trust you, Dad. I  _know_  you'll bring her back to us," she said, her voice a little stronger, determination set in her shoulders as she wiped away her tears. She pushed the bowl of stew closer to him. "Try to eat. You don't need to get weak down there while you're searching."

          He huffed at her as she crawled off his lap to perch on the table next to him. "Don't know if I could hold it down."

          "Mama would make you eat."

          Daryl took the spoon from her and brought a bite to his lips, her smile just like her mother's. The motions were mechanical, but he didn't taste the food, simply doing it to make her happy. He had to admit he felt better, stronger, when he rose from the table and called Rick and Jamie into the room.

          Sophia followed him to the door leading into the tombs and wrapped her arms around his waist as she burrowed into his chest. "Be careful, Daddy."

          "I will, Soph." He leaned over and pressed his lips to her brow. "Love you."

          Sophia brushed a tear from the corner of her eye, watching her father slip into the darkness. She leaned heavily into Carl as he came to stand at her side and twine his fingers with hers. "He'll be ok, Sophia, and when he comes back, he'll have your mom with him. You can't lose hope."

          "Mama's a Dixon. Merle says only a Dixon can kill a Dixon." She shot him a fleeting smile. "We're about to find out."

 

*.*.*

 

_She's armed …_

          Daryl kept an eye out for walkers as he – Rick and Jamie close on his heels – navigated the corridors he'd cleared earlier, his mind on what his friend had said earlier. He tried to remember if Carol had been wearing her belt this morning. She knew how important it was to keep her weapon handy. She was diligent, making sure her handguns were cleaned and loaded, her knife sharp.

_She's trained to take care of herself …_

          He held up his hand, halting the men behind him as he peered around the corner near the infirmary. They were heading into an area he hadn't yet begun to sweep. No one trained harder than his girls. He had to take that into consideration. If something had happened, he was sure she hadn't gone down without a fight.

          "We should be coming up on Solitary," Jamie murmured, keeping his voice low.

          Rick groaned, weapons in hand as he glanced over Daryl's shoulder to see the walkers milling around the hallway in the block of cells. There was at least a dozen, several of which were pawing at one of the solid steel doors. "Now, what do you suppose they're after?"

          Jamie secured his rifle on his back and pulled his knives, one from his belt, the other from his boot. "Could be mice making noise in there," he suggested. He didn't want to get the hunter's hopes up in case it  _wasn't_  their missing women.

          "Y' better hope t' fuck it ain't," Daryl growled back. His heart raced as he surged out quietly into the corridor, like a caged panther freed from confinement, taking out two of the geeks before the others even noticed their presence. It was easy with the three of them working together … much easier than it had been on his own.

          Rick caught his arm, drawing his attention to one of the dead, a familiar knife protruding from the rotted flesh beneath its jaw. "Isn't that Carol's?"

          Daryl crouched down and pulled the blade free, hope flaring in his chest. It just as easily died when Jamie passed him an easily recognizable .45 he'd found lying nearby. It still left her with the smaller knife she kept in her boot and one remaining pistol, but her abandoned weapons did nothing to set his mind at ease.

          "It doesn't mean anything, brother," Rick tried to reassure him. "She was fighting and dropped her gun. Look … magazine's empty."

          And he knew from pulling her knife out that it had gotten stuck. No … no reason to panic. She was still armed, still fighting. He had to believe that. "Check th' cells," he commanded. "They might've taken shelter in one."

          Rick knew what he was doing. Daryl wanted them to give him space to check the cell the walkers had been pawing. He needed them to give him room to see if his wife … he couldn't bear to finish the thought. Instead, he moved off, motioning for the sergeant to follow. However, he didn't go far. The man would need them if things went bad.

          Daryl fought to keep his breathing even when his heart threatened to thunder out of his chest, not wanting the men to see him completely lose his shit if he found nothing but his wife's walker behind the barrier of steel. He leaned over, fisting his hands in the jumpsuit of the geek sprawled out in front of the door and hauled him away before he bit his lip and yanked the door open.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Yeahhhh … y'all ought to be about ready to kill me by now *smirk* Don't worry! I promise lots of lovely reunion fluff next chapter. *hugs*


	64. Chapter 64

 

          His hawk-like gaze scanned the room quickly, darting to every crack and crevice as he held the flashlight in one hand and his knife poised and ready in the other. If he wasn't so well-versed in the symptoms of a panic attack, he'd swear his heart was failing him. It only increased as he fell to his knees next to his unconscious wife. "Carol!" He jerked his head back towards the door, his eyes never leaving her. "Rick! Jamie! She's here!"

          Daryl had briefly glimpsed Tori's lifeless body lying on the bench spanning the wall. He'd barely given her a thought when he'd seen Carol, and even now he couldn't bring himself to care for the sergeant's agonized cry as the Marine dropped next to her.

          His fingers gently lifted her chin as her eyes fluttered up to meet his. She dragged in a tortured breath and flung herself at him, her nails digging into his chest. Tears spilled over her long lashes and a deep heaving sob tore from her throat. "D-Daryl!" she hiccupped, taking too much air into her lungs.

          Rick, coming to kneel at her other side, reached out a soft hand to lay atop her head. "Is she alright? Is she bitten?" he asked, his worry showing through. The last thing he wanted was to have to tell Lori and Carl something had happened to her, and he knew Daryl and Sophia would never recover from her loss.

          His hands did a thorough sweep, finding nothing to set off alarm bells in his head. The blood on his wife's clothes clearly didn't belong to her. Daryl finally tore his gaze from her, the feeling of her in his arms again going a long way towards soothing him. He looked up at Rick. "She's claustrophobic, remember?"

          "No, I'd forgotten … maybe you should get her out of here?" he suggested, feeling a bit boxed in himself, but Daryl was off again in his own little world now that it had been righted on its axis once more. Rick left them, stepping out of the cell as the sergeant lifted his fallen friend and carried her body out.

          "I'm …" the Marine paused, lowering his head briefly, fighting with his emotions. "I'm going to take her up … to her family. Tessa and Sprite –"

          Rick nodded in understanding. "It's going to be rough with all the people we've lost. We need time to mourn, time to heal. This group is strong, Jamie … we'll pull through this together."

          Jamie glanced back towards the solitary cell where Carol was still clinging to her husband. "Do you think she'll be able to talk about what happened? The sisters are going to want to know what went on down here. They'll need it for closure."

          "We won't know until Daryl can get her upstairs and settled down. But you know Carol isn't one to keep things like that to herself. If it affects a member of our family, or the group as a whole, she'll be forthcoming," Rick assured him.

          The sergeant turned, cradling the body of his fallen leader, the wife of his dearest friend, and straightened his shoulders, resigned to the task ahead. One he was far from looking forward to. Rick watched him go before making his way to the end of the corridor to search for more walkers. If the blueprints were correct, there should be a cell door to the left he could lock to prevent more from wandering in.

          Daryl buried his face in Carol's soft curls as she clung to him. He'd been surprised when she'd practically ripped his flashlight from his hand, but the meager light had seemed to calm her. He knew how difficult it had to be for her to have been locked away in the dark. "Shh, baby … I'm here. I got y'."

          "I-I knew y-you'd find me," she breathed, taking comfort in his warm embrace and the musky scent of the outdoors which always lingered about him.

          He gnawed at his lip as he leaned back to meet her gaze, feeling guilty. "I was so scared I wouldn't," he admitted, averting his gaze. "Wasn't like when I was lookin' for our girl back on Hershel's farm. I knew what I was doin' then, but this time … "

          Carol trailed her fingers along his jaw, her eyes filled with understanding. "There were so many walkers, Daryl. Everything was in chaos. You thought I died."

          He broke down, her arms wrapping around him as he wept. "It hurt so badly. I couldn't think or breathe. Felt like I was bein' eaten alive from th' inside. I  _need_ y', woman … so much! This fam'ly don't work without  _you._ " He curled up there with her on the floor, his face buried against the crook of her neck, unable to handle the relief of finding her alive or the wealth of love making his heart pound erratically. He'd never dealt well with his feelings and now was no different. Nearly having lost her seemed to just make it worse. He was supposed to be comforting her, and here he was an absolute mess.

          "Sophia … is she safe?" she asked, carding her fingers through his hair in a soothing rhythm.

          Daryl swiped a hand across his eyes, ridding himself of the moisture left by his tears before nodding. "Yeah, she's with Carl. They're holdin' each other together right now. She never lost faith I'd bring y' back. She's strong, our daughter," he grinned a little crookedly.

          She nestled back into his arms, needing his strength now that it had been restored. "Lori? Rick? Are they alright? Why would Carl need to be holding himself together?"

          Daryl pulled her onto his lap, unable to get close enough. "We lost Shane … Andrea and T-Dog too."

          Carol's face fell, her features awash with fresh pain, and tears slipped unabashedly over her lashes. She wept silently, giving herself a moment to grieve in her husband's arms there in a solitary cell in the bowels of the prison. It was how Rick found them when he peeked in to check on them.

          "I hate to interrupt, but … Daryl, we really need to get her topside so Hershel can have a look at her," he said, his lips curled into a half moon smile for his friends.

          Carol squawked in indignation as Daryl rose with her in his arms. "I'm fine! I think I can manage to walk the few hallways back to the common room," she protested.

          Daryl huffed and shot her a side-eyed look, daring her to argue. "Y' almost died, woman. If I want t' carry y' all th' way back t' Atlanta, I damn sure oughta be free t' do it!" he growled.

          "I did not! You're just going to hurt your back."

          He arched a brow and shifted her more securely in his arms. "Pfft! Y' don't weigh nothin'," he scoffed.

          Yet, she didn't miss the anguish still lingering in his smoky blue gaze. She then realized how important it was for him to do this and she relaxed, curling her arms around his neck. She wouldn't deny him the comfort this small task would bring him.

          Rick hid a grin and hefted Daryl's crossbow from where it had fallen to the floor in the cell, following silently after them, on guard for any dangers which might fall into their path.

 

*.*.*

 

**Earlier …**

 

          It was bitterly cold in the cell, a chill creeping into her bones. The thin cardigan she wore over her tank and flannel button-up did little to keep her warm. She felt as if her blood had turned to ice, and with it came the tremors where she wondered if they would make her splinter apart. Carol tried not to think of it, but it was rather hard when she had nothing but a flickering light to preserve her sanity. The first had died what seemed a lifetime ago, and the second was well on its way to joining it.

          What would she do then? How would she keep the panic from overwhelming her fragile state? How would she fight the fear? Tori slept restlessly, the virus coursing through her along its sinister path of destruction. How much longer would she be able to resist death's loving embrace? It would take her friend, and she'd be left with a monster in her stead.

          It would be Carol's duty to assure Tori wouldn't come back as one of those things, a ravenous corpse set on a course to feed from the living … from her. She angrily seethed at the flashlight, shaking it viciously. A desperate cry tore from her throat as Tori grabbed her hand, seeking to comfort  _Carol_ in the woman's final moments.

          "It's ok. You can do this, y'know." Tori's voice was ragged as she fought for each breath, her grip on her friend so light Carol could barely feel it. "You're so strong, Carol." Her eyes were twin slits of pain, her tongue darting out to wet her dry, cracked lips. "Just remember what I said, yeah? Tell my men to keep fighting … to protect the girls. Tessa … Sprite … tell them not to mourn. Tell them … tell them to remember how much I loved their brother … and how I finally get to be with him again now. Tell them how blessed I was to have them in my life … all of them."

          Carol's lip trembled, tears sneaking their way over her lashes to spill onto her ashen cheeks as she held tightly to Tori's cold hand. "I will. Shh … try not to worry over them. They will have a place with us as long as they wish."

          "I-I know you would never abandon them. Not with your kind and compassionate heart," she laughed breathily, the light beginning to fade from her hazel eyes. They closed, and a soft smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "I have to go now, C-Carol. He's w-waiting … for … for … me …" The breath sighed from her body, her hand falling slack against the bench, releasing Carol's fingers which she'd been holding.

          The pawing and scratching of the walkers at the door increased as Carol's sobs filtered out to them. And now she was trapped in the dark cell with the body of her friend … a body which could re-animate at any moment. She'd never been called upon to put down someone close to her, and she wondered if she possessed the fortitude and strength to do it. If she couldn't find the courage, her husband would eventually find her own walker, and Carol couldn't bear to cause him such pain … not if she could prevent it.

          It was then, when she needed him so much, she could hear his gentle southern growl whisper through her mind as soft as a butterfly's wings.  _Y' can do this, baby. She wouldn't've left y' t' turn. I'm comin', sweetheart. I love you. I need y' t' be ok when I find y'. Please … Be strong, Carol. For me … for Soph. Please … I'm comin' t' bring y' home. Jus' wait for me a little longer._

          Carol brushed her tears away and reached down into her boot, withdrawing the small knife Daryl had given her to hide there. It was small, almost delicate, but sharp and deadly. Merle had laughed when Daryl had presented it to her, still in the box, calling it a 'chick' knife. Yet, she'd happily accepted it along with the slim sheath which fit nearly unnoticeable inside her boot. She'd never even had the opportunity to use it before, always relying on her larger hunting knife. It was a tragedy to think she'd have to use it on someone she cared about.

          She pressed a kiss to Tori's brow, unable to look as she slid the blade into the base of her skull. It was little comfort to know she was doing the woman a kindness. Carol pulled her jacket which she'd laid over her friend back over her shoulders and moved closer to the door, wrapping her arms around herself and huddling against the wall. The flashlight flickered for the last time, plunging her into the oppressive pitch darkness. Her breath hitched, the nightmares of her past encroaching upon her, the skeletal arms of her ghosts sneaking through the abyss to claw at the edges of her mind.

          Carol could feel herself hyperventilating, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. Her light was gone, stripping away the last of her control over her fears. Daryl wasn't there to save her this time, to whisper sweet assurances against the shell of her ear, to hold her until the panic went away. There was nothing but darkness, the blessed relief of unconsciousness … and her waning hope.

 

**Now …**

 

          The three of them made their way cautiously down the corridor towards C block, Rick to Daryl's right. The hunter still cradled his wife carefully in his arms, her head nestled against his shoulder as she relayed her tale from the time she and Tori had been separated from T and Patricia, to the moment Daryl had found her. "I'm sorry … I screwed up. If I hadn't let Tori drag me away, maybe she would still be alive. I left Patricia and T … how could I do that?"

          Daryl shook his head. "Ain't none o' that your fault. Y' did jus' like I taught y', an' kept your ass alive 'til I could find y'," he murmured gruffly, his emotions still raw and too close to the surface.

          "He's right, Carol. You can't be held responsible for everyone in the group. We have to work together to keep one another safe," Rick added.

          "I want to be stronger," she insisted.

          "We'll talk about it when you've recovered," Daryl said, his tone brooking no objection. "That's all y' got t' be concerned about right now."

          Rick lengthened his stride, moving several paces ahead, sensing an argument in the air. And if it was one thing he'd learned, it was not to find oneself in the middle of a Dixon family squabble.

          "When?" she persisted, tilting his chin up to meet her gaze. "I'm serious, Daryl. When do we get to fully recover? From our losses, our injuries, some new threat which will always be out there? When will you have time to help me be a better fighter?"

          He huffed in exasperation. "Y' fought well enough t' keep your ass alive, woman! It'll do for now." He leaned in, pressing his brow to hers and sighed. "Please, cain't we jus' be happy we're together? In a minute, we'll be back at th' block an' y' can see our girl. I don't want us t' fight." He stopped in the middle of the corridor and caught her lips in a gentle kiss. "I ain't lettin' y' out o' my sight, Carol … not again. Let me … jus' let me protect y' for now."

          Her fingers twisted in the ends of his shaggy hair, her gaze softening with love for him as he began moving again. "I don't want to be far from your side, but I want to do my share in protecting our family." She could understand his doubts and fears, the need to be close to her after thinking he'd almost lost her. She understood because she felt the same. It had been so terrifying, fighting her way through the tombs and not knowing what was happening to her husband and daughter, or if they were safe.

          Fierce pride was evident in his darkening cobalt gaze as he nodded jerkily. "Y' already do. You're strong and brave, my warrior wife … an' mine. Don't let nobody tell y' any different."

 

*.*.*

 

          At Rick's urging, Daryl followed him through the cell door at the back of C block. He was happy to avoid the common room and everyone coming and going from the clinic cell. He could take the rear stairs up to the perch and not have to stop every few steps to answer questions from their family. Rick left them alone as Daryl laid Carol gently upon their bed, promising to send Sophia up to them, and see if he couldn't find Lori to tell her the good news of her friend's return.

          "Soon as Soph gets up here, I'll go an' ask Hershel if he'll come up t' have a look at y'. Make sure y' really a'right," he growled lowly, handing her a water bottle where he kept a few at the edge of the bed near their packs. "Drink it all … prob'ly dehydrated as long as y' were down there."

          Carol shot him a pensive stare over the bottle she was guzzling. "I'm fine, Daryl. I was only gone about twelve hours or so. Not enough time to send my body into a state of disrepair," she snarked. "It's late anyway. Can't we wait until morning? I don't want to disturb him after the horrible day we've all had."

          He narrowed his eyes and shook his head before leaning in to press a kiss to her brow. "Stop bein' so stubborn, an' let me take care of y'." She shivered, and he pulled her closer. "Wanna make sure being exposed t' th' cold didn't affect y' either."

          Carol nodded and pressed her cold nose into the crook of his neck. "It's positively frigid down there. I can't wait until spring gets here and it starts to warm up. This place is like a mausoleum," she grumbled. She'd never liked the cold before the turn, and now with the lack of viable heat sources, she liked it even less.

          Daryl rubbed his hands briskly over her back, hoping to generate some heat through the layers she wore. "It'll be here before y' know it, an' then you'll be complainin' about it bein' too hot," he chuckled. "But I'm gonna talk t' Rick about makin' a run. Maybe we can find a place with some kerosene heaters."

          "Mama!" Sophia's cry and the thundering of feet was the only warning Daryl received, giving him but a moment to move out of the way before their daughter was throwing herself at Carol. Carl beamed happily at Daryl as he dropped down next to them, relief evident on his face. Happy tears streamed over Sophia's face as she wrapped her arms around her mother. "Oh, Mama, I was so scared," she wept.

          Carol shushed her softly, clinging to her just as tightly. Her eyes met Carl's over Sophia's shoulder and she swept out her arm, beckoning him closer. He didn't hesitate to find his way into her embrace and bury his face in the crook of her neck. "Are you ok, Carol? We were going crazy up here worrying about you."

          "We lost people, Mama."

          "Shane and Andrea and T-Dog," Carl added for clarification, sadness leaching from his every pore. "And Tori. Her people are taking it hard."

          "When you didn't come back, Daddy went kinda nuts."

          Carol pressed a kiss to her daughter's cheek as her gaze found her husband's … along with the fiery blush tinting his handsome face. "I can imagine."

          "You were missing for so long." Carl turned to his accusing stare on Daryl. "What took you so long?"

          Sophia stifled a hysterical giggle as her father arched a brow at the boy. "Oh, you know … had t' stop for lunch an' then run over for m' four o'clock nail appointment," he snarked before shoving Carl gently in the shoulder. "What th' hell, boy! Had t' fight m' way through a herd o' walkers t' get t' her."

          "I knew he would find you," Sophia said adamantly, settling in at her mother's side. "Daddy's not one to give up."

          Daryl glanced up at Lori and Rick as they came to stand at the top of the stairs. Lori gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, her face alight with happiness at seeing Carol alive and well. Carl made a place for her on the bed and the brunette quickly sat down and hugged her friend. "I am so glad to see you."

          Rick knelt down beside the hunter. "Hershel said he'd give us a few minutes before he came up to check on her. Tessa isn't taking Tori's death too well and he had to sedate her."

          "Thanks … for askin' him, I mean," Daryl mumbled wearily, the day catching up to him quickly. He was also glad he wouldn't have to fetch the man himself, not wanting to leave Carol's side now that she was back where she belonged. He had a feeling it would be a good while before he was comfortable having her out of his sight … if ever.

          He listened with only half an ear to his wife as she filled Lori in on what had happened down in the tombs. Instead, he focused on the plans Rick had for the next several days.

          "Oscar and Axel dug the graves with Glenn's supervision. I still don't trust them, but they proved they're not out to murder us in our sleep. After trying to kick them out, I was surprised by their willingness to come to our aid," Rick said, leaning back against the railing next to Daryl.

          The hunter nodded, his brow furrowing as he watched the women talk quietly. Carol might insist she was fine, but he could see the strain her experience had put on her. "Oscar seems like an ok guy … but Axel is a shifty little bastard. I'm gonna keep m' eye on that one." He shifted his gaze to Rick and gave him a pointed look. "So, y' gonna let 'em stay now?"

          "I don't know. We need to put it before the council and vote. We also need to elect someone to … to take Shane's place as our third." Rick lowered his head and pinched his brow, needing a minute.

          "It's gonna be hard gettin' used t' him bein' gone. He founded this group," Daryl grunted, thinking of all the former deputy had done for the group at the quarry. He would be the first to admit Shane hadn't been his favorite person. In the early days of the quarry, he'd wanted to beat Shane half to death for his lack of spine and poor decisions – especially his flat-out refusal to go after Merle when he'd been left on that rooftop in Atlanta – but he knew the man was doing the best he could in an untenable situation. "I think Jamie should be our choice. Tori's people are going t' look t' him for leadership now, an' it would be good t' have someone represent them on th' council. We need that balance."

          Rick trusted Daryl, and could see his logic. "We'll have to schedule a council meeting, but not tomorrow. Tomorrow we need to hold a memorial service for our fallen and take the day to mourn, to heal."

          "We need t' get th' rest o' those bodies out of th' tombs an' burn 'em. There's also that breach along th' back fence needs repairin'. We got it sealed off from th' inside now, but there's still a chance o' more gettin' in. I don't want t' take a risk o' someone else gettin' hurt," Daryl growled.

          Rick huffed a sigh and swiped a hand over his face. "We're going to have to use what we can find here around the prison. After what happened today, I don't think anyone is in the right frame of mind to go on a run for building materials."

          "Need t' find some heaters, too. Otherwise, we're going t' wake up one mornin' t' find a bunch o' popsicles."

          Daryl glanced up as Hershel made his way up the stairs to the perch, feeling some of his anxiety melting away to know the man was there to see to Carol. She beamed up at the vet turned doctor.

          "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," Hershel said softly, his smile genuine and warm. "Especially with so much loss today."

          "I tried to tell Daryl I was fine," she murmured, her tone quiet so as not to disturb those in mourning or already asleep. "He just fails to listen to me at times. Stubborn, you know."

          Daryl snorted. "Yeah, an' m' wife likes t' take care of everyone but herself."

          "He's got you there, Carol," Lori chuckled.

          "Fine," Carol grumbled with a roll of her eyes, ready to get her checkup over and done.

          Lori ushered Carl and Rick to her and pointed them in the direction of the stairs. "Well, we'll leave you now to get some rest. If you need anything, you just let us know," she offered with one last hug for her friend. "I mean it. And don't even think of getting up early in the morning for chores. Rick is suspending everything to give us time to grieve."

          Sophia gave Carl a little wave before she settled in sitting cross-legged next to her mother. She eyed Hershel worriedly as he set his bag on the bed and rummaged in it for his stethoscope and blood pressure cuff. "You think Mama's going to be alright?"

          "Not to worry, sweetheart. Your mother is one of the toughest ladies I know. I'm just going to give her a little checkup," he soothed.

          Daryl fidgeted at the foot of the bed, his eyes taking in everything Hershel was doing. He wanted nothing more than for the man to give her a clean bill of health. He wanted to curl up with his girls and get some much-needed sleep. Though how he was going to do that after the day he'd had, he didn't know.

          By the time Hershel was done with Carol, Daryl was ready to crawl out of his skin. The doctor's smile didn't even come close to putting him at ease. "You're a little dehydrated, but nothing serious. Everything else seems fine and your vitals are normal. Even prolonged exposure to the cold didn't affect you poorly."

          "She was unconscious when I found her! How is that normal?" Daryl growled impatiently.

          "From what Carol tells me of her bouts with claustrophobia in the past, this isn't the first time it's happened," Hershel explained. "It is her mind's defense mechanism, a way of protecting her body. It will, no doubt, continue to happen until she learns to overcome her fear of small spaces. I'm recommending rest … two days minimum."

          Daryl crossed his arms over his chest, nodding. "I'll make sure of it."

          "That goes for you as well, Dixon," Hershel said with a pointed look at the hunter.

          Sophia laughed and laid down next to her mother, snuggling into her when Carol's arms came around her. "Yeah, like that's gonna happen."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl crossed his arms over his chest as he stood at the gravesite flanked by his wife and daughter. The morning had been difficult for everyone. Breakfast had consisted of protein shakes or cereal bars, no one having much of an appetite. He'd wanted to wrestle Sophia for the last pack of cinnamon pop tarts she'd had hidden in her bag. Thankfully, she loved him, and – after she'd gotten a good chuckle from his petulant expression – had been willing to share. He'd been all for spending the day in bed with Carol, but she was adamant about attending the memorial service.

          Hershel wanted her to rest. She should remain in bed … yet, when did she ever listen? And carrying her out to the part of the field they'd converted into a graveyard was simply out of the question. Carol had narrowed those icy blue eyes of hers and planted her hands on her hips, daring him to argue with her. He was  _not_  allowed to treat her like an invalid. She'd had enough of his coddling when she'd been injured at the spa.

          Carol loved him. He'd known her long enough to be certain, for not a day passed where she didn't  _show_  him. Why couldn't he be a little overprotective? She was his wife … his  _wife_ for fuck's sake! The only Dixon to have ever found true happiness before him had been his uncle Drew. Now if he could just cling to his own … somehow.

          His gaze shifted along the fence line, the few walkers gathered there were mere background noise as his family assembled around the gravesite. It was a noise they were used to, and it didn't detract from the somber atmosphere. Brian held tightly to Tessa on his left, her eyes red rimmed from weeping. Sprite held her around the waist, offering her sister support. The Marines and their partners stood stoically, silently, huddled together in a close-knit unit. Rick and Lori stood on Carol's other side, Carl squashed between them as if they were afraid the boy would run off. He'd sat with Sophia for a long time that morning, his fingers twined with hers, his head resting against her shoulder. Daryl hadn't had the heart to break apart their embrace. It surprised him that he hadn't wanted to. In truth, he wished he'd had a friend like Sophia when his mother had died. Someone to offer him silent comfort when his heart had been splintering apart.

          Daryl tried to tune out the wailing sound of Beth's hymn as she sang plaintively, focusing on those who laid below the earth in their cold graves. His  _friends_  if he could be so bold as to call them that. T-Dog who had left his brother on a roof because of a dropped handcuff key had become a jovial companion on watch, someone who could coax a wry laugh out of Daryl even when it was the furthest thing from his mind. Andrea with her teasing, always a mischievous glint in her eye when she caught him staring at his wife. She'd been a good friend to Carol, and he would be forever grateful to her. Shane … what a prick! he snorted internally. His head lowered just a bit more, his chin resting against his chest. He knew he shouldn't think ill of the dead, but he just couldn't bring himself to like the man. The man's only saving grace was his steadfast duty to help protect the group. And Tori … he'd liked her. She was a lot like Carol in many ways; kind, compassionate and giving. She hadn’t let this world bring her down even after the loss of her husband, and he admired her for her resilience.

          He shifted anxiously on the balls of his feet. The constant weeping from the women was getting to him, and he wanted nothing more than to flee. Hershel was making his way into the space between the four graves, two on either side of him, and that just made it worse. He didn't want to hear the man speak of their lost loved ones. He didn't want to say goodbye. It was a fact of life in their world now, one he accepted, but it was only making him think of how close he'd come to losing Carol.

          As if sensing his restless unease, Carol gently pulled his arm from where it was crossed over his chest and draped it over her shoulder, pressing herself tightly against his side. Of course, she would know how difficult this would be for him. He would never be comfortable in a situation where his emotions might be loosed, and others would see.  _Show no weakness, boy! Yer a Dixon an' we ain't weak! Suck it up!_ He closed his eyes, shutting out his father's loathsome voice, and buried his face in Carol's soft curls. He could do this … he had no choice. He had to be strong for his girls.

          Sophia's small hand found its way into his and she gave him a gentle squeeze as she leaned into him for support. As his sweet daughter rested her head against his arm, and Hershel spoke of each of the fallen with the passion of an ordained minister, he wondered just who was being strong for whom.

 

*.*.*

 

          "Whatcha think that's all about over there? They look like they're up t' somethin'," Daryl remarked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he glanced up from cleaning his crossbow.

          Carol made another stitch in the knee of the cargo pants she was mending and hummed distractedly. After being trapped in the tombs the previous day, she'd rather be outside, but Rick had been adamant about them keeping to the block. Apparently, the man didn't think mourning could be done in the outdoors. She'd let Daryl convince her to take a nap during the late morning, but now that lunchtime had rolled around, she couldn't stand to be idle any longer, choosing to take her basket of mending into the common room to sit beneath the windows. She wanted to feel the sunlight on her skin. Her husband had quickly picked up his bow and followed, hopping up onto the table next to her to clean the already pristine weapon.

          Most of the group had chosen to stick to their cells, using the solemn circumstances to catch up on much needed sleep, but some of the women least affected by their losses – and one who was looking to bury her pain in distraction – had chosen to spend their time in the common room. Her gaze wandered over to their makeshift kitchen area, and her brows drew together into a puzzled frown. Maggie, Beth, Lori and Sophia were huddled there with their heads together. It all looked perfectly innocent … or it would have if she didn't know her daughter so well.

          Of course, she didn't want Daryl to become overly anxious now that he was finally beginning to relax somewhat. "They're probably talking about the new areas of the prison we now have access to, or maybe deciding on where we need to start cleaning tomorrow. I know Sophia is rather excited about the library. You have to admit it's going to take a lot of work to get this place into shape."

          Daryl watched the women drag Rick over into the center of their group. The man blushed deeply, his head snapping up to stare at Daryl for a split second before Lori whispered heatedly in his ear and made him look away. "Bullshit," he growled. "They're up t' somethin'." He looked around for Sophia's shadow, his suspicions increasing when he didn't see him. "Where's Carl … See! If they weren't plottin' and schemin', Carl would be with them."

          Carol snorted. "Baby … you're overacting," she purred lovingly, running her hand along his thigh as she swiftly changed tactics. "Why are you worried about what they might be doing anyway?"

          Daryl lowered the crossbow to the table at his side, his eyes darkening at her touch and the sweet lilting tone of her voice. Heat shivered through him, causing his train of thought to derail. "I'm … I'm not really … jus' curious."

          She smiled, feeling his muscles contract beneath her questing fingers. "Whatever they're doing, doesn't concern us, Daryl. You should be thankful they're not over here asking for your help with whatever it is they've corralled Rick into doing. You deserve a day off."

          He grumbled incoherently under his breath, his palm settling over her soft hand. "Ain't no such thing as a day off any more."

          Carol set her mending aside and rose to stand between his parted knees, her arms winding around his neck. "Yes, there is." She knew how difficult it was for him to appreciate idle time. She leaned into him, pressing her brow to his, reveling in his warmth. "I want to make the most of it, too. Let's go outside," she suggested. "Only Glenn and Randall are on watch today. It wouldn't be a bad idea to walk the fences … fresh air …"

          "Snarlin' walkers," he countered with a grunt.

          "Sunshine …"

          "Pneumonia weather. All we need is y' getting' sick."

          Carol nuzzled her nose against his, unwilling to fight away her grin at his grumbling. "Just you and me …"

          Daryl inched back to meet the question in her mesmerizing azure eyes. "Jus' me an' you?"

          "Yep," she teased, her lips popping on the 'p'. "No chores, no runs, no ravaging horde … just a nice walk on the grounds."

          He hopped up off the table and slung his bow over his shoulder before sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her into his side. She'd effectively distracted him from what the others were planning, the thought of spending some time alone with her – even if it was just a walk around the grounds – solely occupying his mind. "Well, c'mon then, woman. Daylight's burnin'."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Next time … more fluff, reunion loveliness, and we're going to see Merle again, so he can catch us up on what's been happening on his end. I really hope you all enjoyed it. Please review and let me know what you think.


	65. Chapter 65

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Smut warning! This is your heads-up!

 

 

          Lori looked out over the broad expanse of the room and smiled. Though Georgia brought with it mild winters, the state she'd called home for most of her life could still get downright chilly. Which made the warm toasty confines of the warden's office that much more special. Rick had been near frozen when he'd come back with an armload of firewood, but the roaring fire within the hearth had more than made up for his discomfort. Perhaps, he should have listened when she'd told him to grab his jacket.

          The warm teak paneling of the walls and its built-in bookshelves make her think of a library, and she could only assume the previous occupant had been an avid reader. A rather well-to-do one at that, judging by the first editions lining one walls of shelving. Classics from the looks of them. Sophia had nearly had kittens when she'd seen them in such mint condition. The opulent area rug – now stained with walker gore from the group's effort to clear the building – had been carted out, leaving a nice hardwood beneath. She was thankful the carpet hadn't been wall to wall. Just imagining the mess and lingering smell would have put a damper on her plans and made her cringe. Every surface, nook and crevice had been cleaned in preparation of what she'd planned for her dearest friend and their hunter.

          Maggie, Beth and Sophia had been all too willing to give up their free day to do something special for the two people in their group who saw to their comfort and protection. After losing four of their own yesterday, and thinking they'd lost Carol too, it only felt right to show her – even in this small way – how much they loved her … how much they loved them both.

          Lori smiled at her husband as he followed the girls in with buckets of steaming water to fill the large wooden tub they used for laundry. "Sophia, did you find the bath salts I had in my bag?"

          Sophia set her burden down with a groan and pulled them from the messenger bag slung over her shoulder. "You're lucky I'm a gifted klepto with Daddy lurking around. You'd think the man didn't trust me." She was already more than a little peeved Lori had made Rick send Carl out on watch without her. Apparently, they didn't think their son could hold up under Dixon pressure should Daryl become suspicious and corner him for answers.

          Beth snickered. "He prob'ly thinks you're trying to sneak off with Carl."

          Sophia whirled, her hands planting haughtily on her hips as she turned to glare at her friend. "Oh, not you too! If I sneak off with Carl, it's going to be either to kill something or go exploring. None of that handsy stuff you're always doin' with Randall."

          The girl's jaw dropped open as her sister whipped around to stare at her. "Sophia Dixon, you take that back, right now!"

          "Beth! You told Daddy this boy wasn't trying anything with you," Maggie hissed.

          "He's not!"

          "Uh-huh …"

          "GIRLS!" Rick bellowed over the fight escalating, raising his hands up to restore order. "No one is accusing anyone of any hanky panky."

          Lori hid a laugh behind her hand.

          Sophia smirked. "Well, she started it."

          "Yeah, and I finished it," Rick said, giving her a pointed look.

          Just as easily, Beth was smiling too. "Geez, Rick, we were just joking."

          Lori curled her hand around his bicep and led him to the door. "And thus concludes today's lesson on Teenage Girls 101. Thank you so much for coming," she drawled, still having trouble hiding her amusement.

          Rick pressed a kiss to her temple as the other girls filed out behind him and he was able to lock the door. "Next time you want to lure me into one of your clever schemes … count me out."

          She poked him in the ribs as they took the stairs to the foyer. "Don't be a spoilsport, honey. It's unbecoming."

          "You'll be lucky if later you're not tending to an arrow hole in my ass. Daryl can smell bullshit a mile away"

          Lori snorted. "Daryl Dixon is going to be so happy come morning, he won't know whether to comb his watch or wind his butt."

          Rick stopped in the courtyard and stared down at her, his head cocked questioningly to the side. "Where'd you hear that turn of phrase? Carol?"

          Lori sighed sadly and shook her head. "No … Dale."

 

*.*.*

 

          "Th' fuck is her problem, anyway?!" Daryl growled, his spoon clattering to the table next to his bowl. Ever since the group – aside from those few on watch – had gathered together in the common room for dinner, Tessa had been glaring daggers at his wife.

          "Daryl … don't," Carol whispered softly, her left hand reaching out to secure itself around his wrist, preventing him from rising. She met the woman's stare head-on across the room. She could see the pain riding her hard behind the anger she harbored. It was clear in her red-rimmed eyes and puffy nose; the tightness of her fingers as she clutched the bloody sleeve of the jacket she wore. "She's grieving for her sister in law. Please don't start a fight and make it worse."

          His gaze swung to her, sadness alight in her crystalline eyes. He picked up his spoon and shoveled another spoonful of dirty rice and braised venison into his mouth, resigned to sit beside her and behave himself when what he wanted to do was get all up in her face. "She ain't got no right t' be lookin' at y' like that. Rick already told her what happened down there in solitary. What? She think she's th' only one hurtin'? The only one's lost somebody?"

          Carol sighed and pushed her bowl away, wondering where Lori had gone. "Everyone deals with death in different ways. Tessa is angry because I survived, and Tori didn't. It's not like she can make me feel any guiltier than I already do."

          Daryl took her hand in his, twining their fingers. "Y' ain't got reason t' feel guilty. We trained Tori jus' like everyone else. But we cain't make their choices for them."

          Carol shook her head indulgently, refusing to argue with him. "Finish your dinner so we can go to bed."

          "That your way o' changin' the' subject?" he grinned. "Tryin' t' distract me?"

          Carol propped her chin in her hand, her eyes falling half closed as she regarded him, her lips parted in temptation. He shifted minutely in his seat as a surge of heat blazed a trail to his cock and he got lost within her gaze. "I do it … because you let me," she whispered for his ears only.

          How was she able to do that, he wondered with an inward groan. He'd known women before, women he'd met he wouldn't give the time of day, but none of them had ever affected him like Carol. She could crook her dainty little finger and he'd be putty in her hands. Then again, he'd never met anyone he felt such a soul-deep bond with either. It was love. He'd do anything for her, even if she asked him to pluck the stars down and place them in her palm. He leaned in closer, watching her shiver as his breath ghosted across the shell of her ear.

          Daryl was just about to suggest they take a stroll down to the newly discovered library when he heard it. It was like a bucket of ice water poured atop his head, and he could barely bite back an audible growl of frustration. Olive Oyl. Goddammit! His wife's best friend, mood-killer extraordinaire. The bringer of complaints, nagging and all manner of nasty things. Fuck! At least, she'd thought to bring Rick along, so he could drown out her unpleasantness.

          Carol caught wind of his rapidly worsening mood and shot him a warning glare before the pair sat down with them at the table.

          "Carol," Lori chimed, her eyes alight with mischief. Not at all what Daryl had been expecting to see there after all the losses … one of which had been Rick's best friend and  _her_  former lover. That even sounded wrong to him, and he ducked his head before he snorted in her face. His bullshit meter was pinging in the red. "How are you feeling?"

          "Daryl's right," Carol said, arching a brow in the brunette's direction.

          "About what?" Rick asked, looking up from his dinner.

          "You're all a bunch of mothering hens. I'm fine." She reached out to squeeze Lori's hand to reassure her, ignoring Daryl's smug smirk. What man didn't like to hear themselves proven right?

          Rick snorted, thinking Carol's description of Lori's need to hover was spot on.

          Lori swatted sharply at Rick's arm, knocking his spoon from his hand. "Hush it. I'm allowed to worry about her if I wish."

          "Well, there's no need. Hershel told me I would only need to rest for a few days, just to make sure I'm not suffering any lingering effects of the cold. Nothing to worry about."

          Daryl listened with only half an ear to what Carol was saying to Lori, much more interested in what  _wasn't_  spoken between Rick and his wife. He hadn't missed Lori's subtle shifting or the slight grimace which contorted Rick's swarthy features. He suspected she'd kicked him under the table, and it was killing him not to know why. They were shit at subterfuge. The only thing missing was their partners in crime. "Where's Sophia?"

          Rick's head jerked up, his eyes wide like a deer in headlights. "Uh …"

          Lori played it much cooler as she dug into her dinner. "She was here just a minute ago. Said she was going to grab something to eat and bring it to Carl on watch. Knowing her, she'll probably stay up there with him and Randall until their shift's over."

          Daryl pushed himself to his feet with a nod. There was little to nothing Sophia could keep from him, and he was determined to know what this lot had been up to all afternoon. "Think I'll go check on them." He nudged Carol with the backs of his fingers as he slung his crossbow over his shoulder. "Wanna come with?"

          Rick grunted softly as Lori pinched his hip and covered it with a cough. "Aw, hell! I forgot that lantern over in the warden's office. Daryl, do you think y'all might swing over there and get it before you check on the kids?"

          Lori shot him a look which clearly said,  _Seriously?! That's the best you could come up with?_

          To which he ignored. The hunter already looked as if he were ready to tear the former deputy's head off for wasting his time.

          Daryl shook his head in disgust, but Carol agreed. "Sure, Rick. You shouldn't leave lit lanterns all over the prison, though. No telling when we'll find more fuel for them."

          When they'd gone, the steel door of the cell block clanging like a death knell behind them, Rick released the breath – he hadn't realized he'd been holding – in a great huff. He stared at his wife incredulously as she spooned another bite of rice into her mouth as if nothing at all untoward had just transpired. He shifted his weight to his right hip and cocked his head to the side, waiting for her to acknowledge him. As his temper was about to reach its boiling point, Lori smiled.

          "Never. Again."

          Lori sighed. "Rick, darling, we have no TV, no internet, no X-Box. Blood and death and horror surround us on a daily basis and we never know how long this place … our good fortune, so far … is going to last. We have to find our fun where we can, and if it brings a little happiness to someone I care about … well, all the better."

          "Fun?" he asked, his brows rising dubiously. "You call that fun, do you?"

          "About as much fun as that betting pool the Marines started," she mumbled into her bowl.

          "You knew about that?" he squeaked, his face leaching of all its color. If she knew even half of the wagers tossed into that pool, she'd string him up from the guard tower by his balls.

          Lori reached over and patted his cheek affectionately. "I think it's so adorable you thought I didn't." A well-placed finger beneath his chin snapped his gaping mouth shut. "Now, eat your dinner."

 

*.*.*

 

          A whistle drew their gazes to the watch tower as they stepped out of the block and ventured out of the courtyard, Sophia waving down at her parents. Carl was at her side, his mouth full of the dinner she'd brought out to him while Randall prowled along the catwalk. Jamie patrolled the path next to the fences, Alexandra at his side, their fingers entwined as they talked quietly with one another, all the while keeping a secure watch on their home. Carol waved back as Daryl led her towards the admin building and nestled close to his side. It was still difficult to see such normalcy – or at least what passed for normal in the new world – after the chaos of the previous day.

          Now, Rick was sending him off on a fool's errand instead of allowing him to tuck his wife into bed … and burrow in after her. Maybe – though it was a big stretch – he might be able to get some sleep. Last night, it had eluded him. He'd lain awake until the first rays of dawn, watching Carol as she’d slept. He'd held her tightly against his chest, his long fingers stroking through her short silver curls, thanking any god who would listen for her safe return. It was no wonder he was feeling the weight of fatigue pressing in on his eyelids.

          It was cold out, and he hurried the pace he'd set for them, wanting to get her out of the biting cold, especially after her exposure to the low temperatures in solitary. He let go of her but for a moment as he used his key to let them inside. The building had been cleared, and they'd wanted to make sure it remained so. There would be no more risk-taking after what that convict had pulled.

          Carol pulled a small flashlight she kept in a pouch on her belt and shined it around the foyer. "You sure it's safe in here?" she asked as he drew her forward towards the stairs. "I know you and the others cleared the building, but are you certain –"

          He stared down at her earnestly. "The building is sealed up tight. I wouldn't bring y' here if I was worried about more walkers gettin' in. Ain't takin' no chances o' y' gettin' hurt." That she'd even had to ask was testament to how shaken she still was from her experience in the tombs.

          Some of the tension released from her shoulders, and she followed him up the stairs. "I still can't believe Rick was so careless as to leave the lantern in here. What could he have been th –" her softly uttered speech was halted, however, when she entered the room and plowed into her husband's back where he'd stopped abruptly before her.

          "Th' fuck?" he growled, bewildered as his eyes took in every inch of the freshly scrubbed office. "Why would they …"

          Carol stepped out from behind him, her eyes wide. It looked untouched to her eyes, the surfaces gleaming with cleanliness, as if it had been unaffected by the death and decay which had taken over the globe. There wasn't a speck of dust anywhere that she could see, which gave her the chance to take in the rich appointments throughout the room, the overflowing bookshelves, polished hardwood floors and soft buttery leather furniture. Candles glowed along the hearth's mantel and massive oak desk, on end tables situated next to the sofa and chairs arranged before the roaring fireplace. It was a sanctuary, a space set aside for quiet reflection, a gift from their family.

          Daryl frowned at the tears welling in her eyes. "Y' think they're tryin' t' tell us they don't want us in th' block with them?" he asked, completely bewildered.

          She shook her head and made her way over to the desk where a folded piece of journal paper sat with her name on it. "No, I don't think that's it at all," she murmured as her fingers trembled over the paper.

          "What's that?"

          Carol shook her head. "I don't know … but it's Lori's handwriting."

          "Well, open it … find out what all this is about," he encouraged her, setting his crossbow on the desk. He left her there to her privacy to lock the door and close the curtains. Anything to keep him busy and prevent him from intruding on what might be something she wanted to keep between her and her friend.

          He snuck a few surreptitious glances her way as she read, his scowl growing darker as a tear or two managed to escape the confines of her lashes. It took a concerted effort to stop himself from ripping it from her hand and tossing it away. Instead he took in the rest of the changes which had been made to the room.

          The laundry tub – that great round wooden monstrosity they carted everywhere – sat next to the hearth, tendrils of steam and the sweet smell of lavender wafting above its surface. He could only imagine the buckets of hot water the conspirators had been forced to heat over the campfire in the courtyard. He hadn't paid any attention to it earlier, thinking they'd been boiling the water for drinking. A change of clothes for each of them, and a stack of fluffy towels sat next to the tub, along with Carol's favorite bath puff and body wash. He was further surprised to find his kit next to it.

          He dipped his fingers inside, testing the warmth of the water and sighing as the heat caressed his fingertips. Perfect … A rare gift of pleasure for his beloved wife. He knew how much she cherished a long soak, and it wasn't often she could even afford the luxury of a whore's bath. A grin formed on his lips as he envisioned her delight.

          Daryl turned away from the tub, his gaze landing on the sofa. It was wide and soft and would easily hold the two of them comfortably together as closely as they slept. His cheeks darkened with heat as he took in the sheets and blankets covering it, already made up for them with Carol's quilt and his favorite lumpy pillow. Lori and her cohorts had gone to an awful lot of trouble to make Carol happy. Because, of course, he wouldn't believe any of this had been done for him.

          A soft choked sound drew him back to her side as she leaned against the desk, the letter clutched tightly in her hand. "What’s the matter?"

          "Nothing … everything is just … I never realized how much our extended family loved us, Daryl," she cried softly, happy tears streaming over her cheeks. "Here … read this."

          Daryl shot a wary look between her and the letter as he gripped it between two fingers, almost as if it were poisonous. He knew he was being ridiculous, but Carol's tears didn't give him the warm and fuzzies. When she cried for any reason, he felt as if live eels were writhing in his insides with no clear way to banish them. Her nod ushered him to hurry along as he flipped open the page and began to read the elegant scrawl …

 

_Dear Carol –_

 

_Yeah, you're probably wondering what all of this is, huh? Surprise! *grin* Yesterday, I have to admit, was one of the bleakest moments in my life. We lost Shane and I had to watch my husband lose his best friend. We lost Andrea and T-Dog and Tori, and though I wasn't very close to them, they were still a part of my family. But it made me think … not one of them meant as much to me as you do, Carol. The thought of losing you … I can't. You're my sister. Not by blood, but by choice. I cannot imagine my life without you. You are the heart of our family, and we wanted to show you how much you mean to us … how much Daryl means to us, too._

_Enjoy an evening with your husband locked safely away from prying eyes. Love one another and cherish the moment. No matter how safe we are behind these fences, the future is uncertain. You once told me to grasp my happiness with both hands and don't let go … for anything or anyone. Now it's time to heed your own advice. Have fun!_

 

_I love you—_

 

_Lori_

 

  1. _Don't worry about Sophia. She'll be bunking with us tonight._



 

          Carol watched her husband as his eyes scanned the letter and then darted away, chancing a glance at her from beneath his fringe of bangs. She knew how hard it was for him to accept love after what he'd suffered. Yet, there it was in black and white for him to see, irrefutable proof he couldn't deny. She took the letter from him and tucked it away in her pocket as he swiped a hand over his face and then chewed for several moments at his thumbnail.

          He cleared his throat of some of the emotion clogging it and dropped his hand. "They … um … they did all this for _us_ … not jus' you?"

          "Us," she affirmed, sliding her feet across the hardwood until she was standing before him, her hands coming to rest at his collar. "This proves what I've been saying for months now. You cling to the fringes of the group, Daryl, when your place is at its center. This is your family …  _our_  family. Brothers, sisters, kin." She leaned up on her toes to press her lips to his scruffy jaw. "Embrace it."

          He didn't know if he could. It had taken him so long to let Carol and Sophia in, each day a struggle against his life's teachings. It was so ingrained in him not to trust anyone with his heart. They would see it as a weakness and tear it down. Yet, here they were, a group of adopted strangers including him in their circle of family, offering him friendship, understanding and love. How was he supposed to deal with this?! By running.

          Or by, at least, changing the subject. He doubted Carol would appreciate him running off to brood in the woods, especially now that night had fallen. He glanced over his shoulder at the steaming tub before meeting her knowing eyes. He wasn't fooling her by the slightest. "Water's gettin' cold," he grunted.

          Carol sighed, her mood changing in an instant. She knew when to push and when not, and now was not one of those times. She was going to savor every moment of the evening spent with him. "We wouldn't want that, now would we? Not after all the trouble they've gone to."

          Daryl was still anxious, unsure of how to feel about their friends' gift, but he wasn't going to thumb his nose at an evening alone with his wife. They hadn't had time together in almost a week, and his body was eager for her touch as her clever hands sneaked up under the edges of his jacket and vest, pushing them off his shoulders. It was the first time he'd actually felt warm enough to get rid of his clothes. She shot him a gamine-like grin as she took the garments and laid them on an overstuffed chair, out of the way.

          He needed this, needed  _her_. The pain was still too close to the surface, his heart still in tatters with the thought of almost having lost her. The need to show her how much he loved her, how much a part of him she was, made him tremble with the force of it. Yet, he had to calm his raging desires. He wouldn't act the beast with her and scare her. His thumbs drew circles low on her hips as she went to work on the buttons of his shirt. "Y' know we ain't both gonna fit in that tub, right?" he asked, eyeing it over her shoulder.

          Carol hummed as she tossed his button up over her shoulder to join his jacket and vest, distracted by the toned bare flesh she'd revealed. "We can still make it fun," she assured him, leaning forward to place a lingering kiss to the center of his chest. He shivered at her touch, and she slowly dragged her hands over his sides, her fingertips dipping into every scar as she mapped his flesh.

          Daryl hissed as her nails scraped gently over his nipples and his hands shot out, gripping her upper arms in a fierce grip. "Y' keep that up an' we ain't gonna make it t' th' bath, woman."

          Carol bit her lip, indecision warring on her lovely features as she tried to figure out which she wanted more … a bath or her husband. The thought of soaking her aching muscles in hot water won out and she stripped out of her clothes in record time, leaving Daryl to pick up behind her with a laugh.

          A moan slipped past her lips as she stepped into the tub and lowered herself into the water, inhaling the lavender scented steam as if it were a drug. It permeated her every pore, soothing, relaxing, dragging her under its spell. For just a perfect moment in time, she could forget about the death and decay, the pain and hopelessness, the worry she lived with every damn day. "Oh, god, this is heaven," she murmured dreamily, her voice the only whisper of sound over the crackling fire.

          Daryl dropped to his knees behind her after ridding himself of the rest of his clothes, bare but for his ragged jeans. It was worth any embarrassment or teasing he suffered when they went back to the block tomorrow morning, just to see the look of abject pleasure on his wife's face. He cupped his hands, dipping water into them to pour over Carol's short silver curls as she tipped her head back. "I'm glad they did this for y'. I know it's been hard on y' lately, not being able t' have a proper bath," he said gruffly, working a dollop of shampoo into her hair. "Hate it I can't get y' stuff y' need."

          Carol turned her head and gave him an admonishing look. "You give me everything, Daryl. Creature comforts are just a bonus." She dropped a kiss to the corner of his mouth, just over his beauty mark before her eyes closed and she gave herself over to his tender ministrations. "We all have to make allowances at the end of the world."

          He grew quiet, melancholy and rinsed the last of the soap from her hair. "Carol … "

          She could hear it in his voice, that subtle edge of pain which he very seldom let her hear. She reached up to cover one of his hands with hers where it rested on her shoulder. "I know, love."

          Daryl cleared his throat, fighting to put his feelings into words. "Yesterday … I cain't do that again, Carol … an' … an' I don't know how t' stop it. Seems everywhere we go, there's somethin' threatenin' t' take y' away from me."

          Carol leaned back into his touch as he lathered the puff and dragged it over the nape of her neck and down the ridges of her spine. "I'm here, Daryl, and I'm going to stay here … with you … until I can't anymore. I'm never going to stop fighting for you."

          He emitted a shuddering sigh and wrapped himself around her back, his arms crossing over her chest as he crushed her to him. He held her for a long time, peppering the ivory column of her throat with fleeting kisses. Finally, he relaxed and continued to bathe her until her skin glowed and her fingers pruned. She had him out of his pants before she'd even reached for a towel to dry herself, ushering him into the tub before the water cooled.

          Daryl groaned as she attacked his shaggy hair, her nails scrubbing roughly against his scalp to rid it of what he'd missed the day before. He wouldn't be surprised to find walker gore he might have overlooked. "Y' ever wonder what it mighta been like if we'd met before th' turn?" he asked quietly. It was something he'd thought about more than once, and he needed a distraction from his body's response to her questing hands.

          Carol pressed a kiss behind his ear, her lips smiling against his skin. "And just where would we have met?" She hummed, giving it some thought. "I would have brought the jeep into the garage where you worked. Yes, I could see it. I would have been trying to hide a black eye behind a huge pair of sunglasses, but I wouldn't have been able to take my eyes from you. I would have smiled. I wouldn't have been able to resist." A soft chuckle passed her parted lips to whisper hotly against the shell of his ear as she reached around him to scrub his chest. "You would have looked away and blushed at the attention, grumbling."

          Daryl snorted, a small grin spreading across his lips as he imagined the scene she painted for him. He leaned back, relishing the feel of her satiny skin pressing into the mangled lines of his back. "Think y' know me so well. I mighta surprised y'. Mighta gone up t' y' and reached up t' take those glasses off y'. I mighta looked right into those gorgeous blue eyes an' asked y' t' go out t' dinner with me."

          Carol listened to how he would have wanted it to go and let her hands drift lower, mapping the ridges of his abs, delighting in the way his muscles danced and twitched beneath her fingertips. "Would you have?" she giggled lightly. "Would you have convinced me to run away with you, baby?" she purred, dipping beneath the surface of the water, her hand brushing over the erection he couldn't hide.

          "Naw … " he scoffed, his deep voice breathy with need as her fingers wrapped around his cock and stroked root to tip. "I woulda blushed an' run away like a big pussy. An' god forbid if Merle woulda been there t' see it. Never woulda heard th' end of it."

          Her lips were relentless, searing the flesh beneath his ear as she worked him, the perfect pressure he liked, the exquisite feel of her palm tracing over the crown as she gave her wrist a sharp twist. Everything needed to have him growling low in his chest, his inner beast clawing its way to the surface to stake his claim on her. "I would have come back. I wouldn't have let you avoid me forever. You would have given me strength to take my life back." She nipped sharply with her teeth, pulling, suckling, drawing the blood to the surface to bear her mark. "You  _did_ , Daryl."

          Carol gasped as he turned abruptly, his arms encircling her waist in a fierce grip. He dragged her back into the tub, water sloshing over the sides as he yanked her across his lap, his lips crashing down on hers in a kiss filled with so much need, overwhelming desire, and soul-deep love, it nearly consumed her.

          More water splashed out of the tub as her left hand fisted in his hair, her right bracing against his chest as she adjusted herself in the limited space and straddled his lap. His knees were bent and resting against her ass, setting her at an odd angle, but the way she was kissing him, any inhibitions she might have had caught a one-way ticket out of town, he couldn't have cared less about any discomfort he was in. Her heat burned him as it came to settle over his ever-hardening arousal, a definite contrast to the warm water. Every walker on the planet could be gathered outside the gate, Rick could have been doing a hat dance in the center of the block and Merle could be passing out acid to the governor's daughter and he wouldn't have cared. Nothing mattered but the precious woman in his arms. He doubted anything ever would again if he couldn't have her.

          Carol broke the kiss with a gasp, her chest heaving, a wicked grin playing at her kiss-swollen lips. She hummed silkily, the sound sending a fresh surge of heat to his cock, her hips rocking lightly, teasingly, into his. His fingers dug into the perfect swell of her ass, dragging her closer to press up against her heat and he moaned as her grip on his hair tightened, her lips trailing along the column of his throat to his ear. "Well, Dixon … now you've got me where you want me, what do you plan to do about it?"

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Mwahahaha! No, really … like it? hate it? don't care either way? Let me know, even if you just want to pop in to say I'm evil, awful, mean, etc. lol. I love writing for y'all. See you next time where we will pick up where Daryl and Carol left off. *hugs*


	66. Chapter 66

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: More smut, angst and all-around thangs! Here's your warning.

 

_"Well, Dixon … now you've got me where you want me, what do you plan to do about it?"_

 

          His eyes darkened, only a cool ring of blue surrounding his blown pupils as she continued to grip his hair, her nails digging sharply into his scalp. Oh, how he loved her sass. No longer did she rely only on a soft touch. Now she allowed her passions free reign. She wasn't afraid to express her desires any longer, and he would be forever grateful. He shivered as she used her free hand to trace a scar next to his right nipple, unable to quell the low growl rumbling in his chest. She ground her hips down, slipping, sliding ever so sensuously over his cock, driving him mad with pleasure. He knew what she wanted, and right then he'd be lucky if he could pry them out of the small tub. His toes were squashed against the side and already a cramp was beginning to seize them.

          Daryl grunted as pain shot through his foot, and Carol frowned, releasing her hold on his hair. "First thing I gotta do is figure out how t' get us outta this damn contraption," he growled. The pain was spreading into his calf, and he didn't know how much more he could stand.

          Carol shifted, but that only seemed to make the situation worse, her foot becoming wedged in behind his back. She grimaced as she caught his eye. "Well, that went from sexy as all hell to fubar in three seconds."

          He gritted his teeth, his hands falling to the edge of the tub, his nails digging into the worn wood as she slid over his cock once more. "Carol … unghf," he groaned. "For fuck's sake, stop movin'!" he commanded, his head falling back as his eyes slammed closed.

          She did as he instructed, heat flooding her face as she felt him nudge against her clit. Biting her lip to stifle a moan, she fought against the urge to squeeze him with her thighs. "How do we end up in these situations?" she whimpered, feeling helpless and not liking it at all. Her desires and the need to help him warred with one another. He was in pain and there was nothing she could do at the moment.

          "With help from well-meanin' fuckin' friends, that's how!" he hissed, his voice rising right along with his temper. "And I sure th' hell ain't callin' Rick t' come pry us outta here."

          "I doubt he'd hear us anyway."

          "Beside th' point!"

          Carol leaned in and kissed him, a soft glide of her lips over his. The change of position helped ease her weight off his legs and give him room to move. Not much, but enough. She smiled, spreading nibbling little nips over his lower lip. "Better?"

          "Cramp's easin' up, but that ain't helpin' us outta here," he grumbled, relaxing into her loose embrace, relieved to have some of the pressure off his leg.

          His wife cocked her head to the side, her eyes narrowing as a plan formed in her mind. "Um … what if I …" They both gasped, the heated air hissing between them as she wiggled around on his lap and drew her leg up to wrap around his waist. Her foot wedged in behind him with the other, but it also had her full weight pressing down on his arousal. "Oh, god!"

          Daryl whimpered pitifully, and dragged her against his chest, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "I swear, woman, you're gonna be th' death o' me yet." It was imperative he got them out of the blasted tub before he somehow injured himself or died from a severe case of the blue balls … whichever came first. And with Carol wrapped around him like a vine, it wasn't going to be easy. He was going to need leverage, and how was he supposed to get it crammed into the tub as they were? Not to mention, the water was getting colder by the second. Damnit!

          She shifted again, a low moan whispering against the shell of his ear as her heat slid over his flagging erection … which sprang back with new life, earning a glare from her husband. "Oops!"

          "Woman!"

          Carol giggled and pressed her brow to his, nuzzling her nose against his own. "I'm sorry … it's just … I want you, Daryl," she purred, her voice husky and laced with desire.

          His mouth fell open, the breath rushing from his lungs at her admission, seconds before her lips crashed into his, her tongue finding his in an instant, dueling sinuously. She rocked into him, seeking relief for the aching in her center, needing to feel him push his way inside, to bury himself deep and quench her thirst. "Yes! Please, baby … almost … " She wrapped her arms around his neck, trying in vain to lift up just a bit more, to give him room to thrust up inside.

          With a howl of frustration, he braced both hands on the rim of the tub and pushed himself up. Carol squawked in alarm, not expecting him to make such a move, especially since things had been heading in a different direction. Her surprise turned into a blindingly bright smile … two seconds before he lost his balance and sent them hurtling over the side of the tub. Daryl grunted as he landed flat on his back, taking her weight atop himself as they sprawled there in a tangle of limbs. He supposed he should be thankful the damn tub hadn't flipped and drenched the floor.

          "Are you ok?" she asked worriedly as he laid there staring blankly at the ceiling.

          He blinked up at her, shaking the cobwebs from his mind as his arms banded around her. He sucked in a deep breath, happy to see his lungs were going to function properly. "Jus' thinkin' what Merle would say if he coulda seen that shit."

          Carol giggled and placed a finger to his lips. "Shh … we must never speak of it," she said with mock seriousness. She brushed the hair away from his eyes, her fingers trailing over the side of his face. He remained still for her, letting her do with him as she wished. She was silent, pensive, studying every line and crag of his handsome features. "I love you, Daryl. I never knew I could love someone the way … the way I love you."

          Daryl felt his eyes sting with unshed tears, hearing the depth of emotion pouring from his wife. Because there was no doubt in his mind she meant every word. He'd never thought to find anyone who would accept him as he was, certainly not with Merle tagging along behind him. But not only had she accepted him, but his brother as well. His throat closed over and he swallowed audibly, holding her gaze. He couldn't speak, but he could show her. He pressed his nose into her palm, his lips ghosting over her warm skin before he took her hand and placed it over his heart. "Yours … ain't never belonged t' no one else, an' never will again. Jus' yours, baby," he rasped, hoping he didn't sound too pathetic. It was hard to know for sure when he'd grown up with Merle trying to make a man out of him with his misguided logic.

          But it must have been right – how could it not be coming straight from his heart – because she sealed her lips to his with renewed ardor, her hot little tongue delving deep to reignite the fire in his blood. She was done teasing, done with heartfelt professions of love. Now she just wanted his touch.

          His work-roughened hand cupped the back of her head, holding her in place as he took charge of the kiss, plundering her mouth while his free hand explored her damp skin. Carol mewled against his lips as his clever fingers plucked at her nipples before ghosting lower, eager to continue what had been interrupted in their bath. Her nails dug into his chest as he cupped her mound, her hips grinding down against the heel of his hand, her head falling back onto her shoulders as she released a long keening cry.

          Daryl's teeth scraped slowly over his lower lip in anticipation as he watched her through sloe-lidded eyes. He would never grow weary of watching her like this, when her lust was riding her hard and she let go of her inhibitions. He'd never seen anything more beautiful, and doubted he ever would again. He sat up, following her, his lips trailing over her swan-like neck to nip sharply at her collarbones. He breathed her in, the scent of sweet pea and peony from her body wash teasing his senses. He couldn't get enough of her. His palm closed over her breast, the taut bud pressing into the center of his hand, and he squeezed, eliciting another moan from deep in her throat, the sensation of both hands working her like a fine instrument driving her closer to the edge.

          It was then those azure orbs opened and seared him with her inner fire. With one hand, she pulled his fingers from within her tight wet sheath and gripped his cock tightly with the other. He hissed at her touch, his heart thundering against his ribs as more blood surged into his engorged member, standing tall and proud, begging for more of her, wanting nothing more than for her to impale herself upon him.

          Carol sucked in a sharp breath as she slid slowly down his length, her body shuddering with pleasure as she came to rest flush against him. He ignored the sting of her nails on his belly, the slight pain only increasing the lust searing through his body as her wet heat enveloped him. The urge to thrust was nearly uncontrollable, but he restrained himself. This was her show. He wouldn't take control from her until she asked.

          His hands settled low on her hips, giving her a gentle squeeze before sliding around to cup the perfect swell of her heart-shaped ass. "C'mon, baby, take what y' want," he growled lowly, the rough timbre of his voice sending a shiver to dance along her spine and causing her eyes to darken further. "I wanna watch y' ride me, Carol."

          The breath rushed out of her, a quiver in her thighs as she rocked forward, taking him deeper. She set a pace, torturously slow, teasing him from the inside out, wanting to savor him for as long as possible. She got lost in the liquid fire of his eyes, never letting her own fall closed, afraid she'd wake up from her wonderful dream and he'd be nothing but wisps of smoke to fade away and leave her shackled to the horrible reality she'd lived before the turn. She needed that connection, to look into the other half of her soul while she sought her pleasure only he could bring her.

          "Daryl … I c-can't … I need …" she stammered, fighting her way up the peak only to slip back a bit. Carol growled in frustration, her hand planting in the center of his chest as her knee slipped for the third time in the puddle of bathwater surrounding them.

          And though she wasn't able to finish a coherent thought, he understood. His arms wrapped around her, rolling with her, never losing that precious connection to her body … or her soul, her heart. They were one. His mouth crashed over hers, his teeth pulling gently at her lower lip as he thrust into her, back arching, her hips rising to meet his … over and over. Her nails scored his shoulders and made new tracks over the scars which littered his back, each new tingle of pain sending a fresh surge of fire through his veins.

          He was close, but so was she, her walls fluttering in the first stirrings of her climax. His thrusts became erratic, his body shuddering out of control. Carol's legs wrapped around him, her entire frame going rigid as her body seized and catapulted over into bliss, dragging him with her. He rolled with her again, dragging her atop his chest as he thrust up into her one last time, his arms bands of steel around her, never wanting to let her go.

          Carol nuzzled into the crook of his neck with a wide yawn as her breathing slowly came back to some semblance of normal. She couldn't help but notice the shiver which shook them both. "Cold?"

          He nodded and pressed a kiss to her brow. "Yeah … I'm layin' in a puddle, but I'm too exhausted t' move."

          A light chuckle met his ears. "Well, you can't stay down here on the floor wet and naked. Though I don't mind the naked part."

          She sat up and reached for a towel, helping him to his shaking knees so she could dry him off. After she'd done the same, she spread the towel on the floor to soak up the excess water before nudging him towards the sofa. She crawled onto it, pressing herself between him and the back of the buttery soft leather cushions. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so safe, four walls and a roof with the added surety of her husband's arms around her. She felt as though she could sleep for a week.

          Daryl fluffed his pillow and laid back with a yawn, pulling their quilt up beneath Carol's chin to make sure she stayed warm. The fire was still crackling merrily in the hearth, and he sent up a thanks that the former warden had been an uppity fucker who liked his creature comforts.

          "Stop thinking so loud," she mumbled against his chest, her eyes too heavy to remain open.

          He didn't even try to deny it. "Love you. Y' know that, right? I know I'm shit about m' feelings, but I … I show y' well enough, don't I?"

Carol's arm banded about his waist as her lips traced over his chest … over his heart. "You're perfect. I know ... I've always known."

 

*.*.*

 

_"Daryl!"_

_He ran hell-bent down the dark corridor, the walls seeming to press in on him as he followed the sound of her voice. Sweat beaded on his brow, the icy hand of dread clutching his heart, as he barreled into yet another dead end, the ever-present moans and low snarling growls of the dead his constant companion. His left hand smacked against the cold concrete wall, shuffling feet carrying the walkers closer to him. His heart thundered against his ribs in time with the blood in his ears. His chest heaved with the panting breaths rushing past his lips, panic seeking to overwhelm him._

_"Where are y'?!" he called frantically, his knife sinking into the eye socket of the nearest fiend as he rushed towards the dark, praying he'd find a way out, the right passage which would lead him to his woman._

_"Daryl!"_

_Damnit, no! Her voice was now coming from the opposite direction. Every time he felt he was growing closer to her, she would be farther away. Why couldn't he find her? He pushed his legs harder, faster … he had to get to her before she was lost to him forever. He wouldn't stand by and watch her body lowered into a cold grave. Not her. Not his Carol … his beloved wife. He'd waited too long to find her. He couldn't go on without her._

_"Daryl!"_

_Panic beat at the wall of his chest behind his breastbone as he heard her wailing despair, desperation in her tone. He turned again, clawing the stone walls, pushing himself forward. There had to be a way out! Pitch dark. A black so infinite, he'd swear he'd gone blind. Four walls … enclosing him … trapping him … no door … no window. His breathing ramped, and he could feel his throat constrict in terror._

_"Daryl …"_

_His lips parted on a silent gasp. She was just there, her whisper echoing in the tomb in which he found himself. All was not lost, not if she were there with him. He regained some of the senses which had fled him in his panic, providing him enough cognition to search out the tiny flashlight he kept in a pocket of his cargoes. He took a deep breath as the torch flickered to life, the battery still somewhat strong. The beam swept the room, hitting the floor close to her boots, and he slowly trailed it up her body where she stood pressed against the wall, her hands down at her side._

_She took a stumbling step towards him, her arms lifting, hands grasping. The muted beam of light centered on her face, and his heart plummeted, the milky paleness which had once been her bright azure eyes staring back at him. No, no, no, no, no, it reverberated over and over in his head like clamoring symbols. He was too late … he'd failed … just as he'd done his whole life. Yet, now he'd lost the one person he couldn't live without._

_Daryl opened his arms, the knife falling from his numb fingers to clang loudly against the floor. He opened his arms to welcome her in death just as he had in life. He would not live in a world where she couldn't stand and fight and love by his side. She reached for him, her mouth opening, calling his name? And more unexpectedly, her palm swung and smacked him across his scruffy cheek._

          "Daryl!"

          His eyes shot open to stare up into his wife's worried gaze. The stinging in his cheek helped to clear his head, and he realized the slap he'd received in his dream had been very much real.

          "You scared me half to death when I couldn't wake you up," she sniffled, her soft fingertips brushing at the wetness on his face. Tears of her own clung to her lashes, and her breathing was off-kilter.

          He'd done that to her, and the realization just made him feel worse. Daryl kicked the quilt off of them, the room sweltering from the blazing fire in the hearth. He could only deduce Carol had gotten up earlier and fed more wood into the fire.

          Daryl couldn't release her gaze, to see her bright blue eyes, warm and full of worry for him rather than the milky yellowed haze they'd been in his dream. His hands swept over her, searching her silken skin for injury, the nightmare still too close to the surface. He doubted he'd ever get the image of her walker out of his head. She bit her lip as he shifted beneath her, eyes darkening as his morning wood came in contact with her core. They hadn't dressed after their bath and subsequent loving the previous night, and the feel of her bare skin against his, his engorged cock sliding through her pooling wetness, made something inside him snap.

          Carol squeaked in alarm as he rolled her beneath him, his eyes wild, nearly black, a feral growl working its way from deep in his chest. His hands were rough as he parted her thighs, falling heavily between them and pushing his cock deep within her. He could no longer look into her eyes, so wide and startled. He couldn't bear to look and see betrayal written there. Instead, he buried his face against the curve of her throat, his growl transforming into a whimper. It wasn't about lust or sex. His need was to be as close to her as possible, and this was the only way he knew to achieve it.

          His need for connection warred with what he'd done to her. He'd practically forced himself on her, consent be damned, and he hated himself for it. Yet, instead of pulling away, he clasped her tighter, unable to let go. He was so mired in self-loathing, it took him a moment to register Carol's gentle hands carding through his hair, or the way she'd wrapped her legs so snugly around his hips, holding him within her as if she was afraid he'd come to his senses and pull away.

          His voice was muffled against her neck, his lips smashed against her ivory skin. "I'm … sorry … so sorry …"

          Carol pressed her lips against his hair in a soft kiss. "Shh," she whispered, her heart breaking for him. "Shh, love. It's ok … you're ok. I've got you."

          "I didn't mean –"

          "I know what you need, Daryl," she crooned, smoothing a hand over his back, her fingertips tracing the lines of his scars. "You were crying out in your sleep … the nightmare … You lost me all over again, didn't you?"

          Daryl lost himself in her eyes once more, the love and understanding evident there feeding his soul. "Worse. You were … it was your walker," he croaked around the torment clogging his throat. "I … I wanted t' die too. You're  _everything_  t' me, woman. I jus' … what's th' point of livin' without y'?"

          Tears stung her eyes and her heart gave a painful throb imagining the agony of his dream. There wasn't a one amongst the group who hadn't at some time had night terrors of their loved ones coming back as a walker. But she knew it was so much worse for Daryl. His whole life he'd had everything and everyone he'd ever loved brutally ripped away from him. There had been no one there for him, no one to soothe his pain, no one to tell him it would get better or that it would be alright. It tended to make every hardship he faced that much more difficult.

          The soul deep connection she shared with him … she could see how much he was clinging to it, his need more than apparent. "I'm here, baby … right here with you, very much alive. It was just a nightmare," she cooed, trailing her fingers through the tears awash on his face. He stared at her as if he couldn't believe his own eyes, frozen in his despair.  
          Carol rolled her hips up, taking him deeper, and she smiled at the long hiss which rushed past his teeth. Color was slowly returning to his cheeks, and she could feel him grow harder within her. She raked her nails over his back, hot trails of pleasure-pain, the extra stimulation he needed to slowly coax him back to life. He ground his hips into her, her back arching, a low moan tearing from her throat as his pubic bone pressed into her clit. He held that pressure, needing to feel her hot and wet around his cock, skin to skin, two halves of the same whole joined in bliss.

          He melted into her as she dragged him down to meet her lips, her kiss heightening his pleasure, giving him what he needed without having to ask. She fed his need, giving selflessly of herself as she urged him to move, to take what he needed from her without giving anything in return. She was his light, guiding him through the darkness, his life, his love, and he wouldn't do that to her. He wouldn't take from her and give nothing back.

          Warmth seeped back into his frigid bones the more she touched him, the more of herself she gave only to him, and he began to come back to himself. His calloused hands roamed her body with new urgency, eager to please her, to push her closer to her peak. He concentrated his efforts on all the places he knew she liked to be touched, and brought his hot mouth to close over the taut bud of her right breast – which always seemed more sensitive than the left – capturing it between his teeth to give it a light nip. Carol mewled, arching into him as he thrust into her, his pace increasing as her hips rose to meet him. She was wrecked, needy, lost in a heady whirlwind of delicious sensation, so close he could feel a fresh surge of moisture drench his cock. A litany of  _please … yes! … harder … faster …_ fell from her kiss swollen lips with abandon, and he was eager, desperate to fulfill her desires.

          Her chest heaved, her head thrown back against his pillow, her thighs quivering as her body went rigid beneath him and she went plummeting over into the abyss, her mouth forming a perfect little 'o' of pleasure. Daryl watched her fall, his climax rushing up to meet him, spurred by watching her achieve her own, knowing he'd brought her to such a state. He was a prideful ass! Nothing brought him greater satisfaction than knowing he could do that to her.

          Carol's limbs locked around him, dragging his full weight down to rest against her, pressing her deeply into the soft cushions of the sofa. He didn't want to crush her, yet neither did he ever want to leave the love and comfort her embrace provided. It felt strange to allow himself to be so vulnerable, to let someone into his heart, but with her it was so easy, to just let go and let her love him.

          Daryl was boneless, sated, and he never wanted to move again. He wanted to just lay there with her and forget the world as her fingers carded gently through his damp hair. But, of course, reality had to intrude. "I love you, Daryl," she murmured, tilting his face up to meet her gaze. "But you've got to let this go. If you don't it's going to eat you alive." She pressed a kiss to his brow and his arms tightened about her, showing her he was listening. "I will stand by you as long as I'm able. Protect me … love me … but don't fear for me. I'm a survivor … because of you. You made me strong, and together we're going to make it."

          He propped himself up on an elbow and took her hand, bringing it to his lips to press a lingering kiss to her palm. "I'm tryin'. I'll never stop tryin' for you."

          "That's all I can ask."

 

*.*.*

 

          It hadn't taken them long to clean up the mess they'd made in their temporary sanctuary, emptying the wooden washtub and carrying it back between them to the block, their toiletries and dirty clothes nestled within, their bedding on top. It was barely dawn, the first streaks of pink and lavender tinting the sky in an array of color. Daryl couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so deeply. There was something to be said for the security of a locked door, and his family out of earshot. Carol's eyes were bright, and her cheeks flushed with healthy color, so he had no doubt she'd had an equally peaceful night.

          It had done them a world of good to have an entire night to themselves, and he already had in mind a way to thank the sheriff's wife. It wasn't much, but she had done a solid favor – one from the heart – for his wife, and he didn't take that lightly. His woman was happy, and though he would no doubt have to stand for some good-natured ribbing, the smile lighting her entire face was worth it.

          Carol collected his pillow and their toiletries from the tub where he dropped it next to the cold campfire, wanting to wash the rest and get it hung so the day's limited heat would have time to dry it before nightfall, before setting off towards the common room with him hand in hand. Most of their family was still asleep, the room's sole occupant standing near the makeshift counter holding the coffee maker waiting for the first pot to brew.

          Daryl's face flushed a bright crimson as he met Lori's dark eyes, not missing the smug smirk teasing at her lips. "Good morning, Dixon, sleep well?" she asked, barely able to hide her grin. He grumbled incoherently, took the items from his wife to return to the perch, and made a hasty exit, leaving Carol there trying to hide a grin behind her hand.

          She took a seat at the table closest to her friend while Lori poured them each a cup of coffee and brought it over. "You, ma'am, are not supposed to be drinking coffee. Caffeine is bad for the baby," Carol scolded.

          The brunette winced as she watched Carol dump sugar and powdered creamer – much more than what was healthy – into her cup. "I'm not drinking it,  _mom_. I know I can't have it, but I can sit here and smell it, can't I?" Carol snorted, but didn't argue. "So," Lori began, dragging out the word playfully. "How was your evening? Did you have fun?"

          Carol blushed over the rim of her cup, moaning in delight as the first sip of the brew washed over her tongue. "Yes," she answered, looking off towards the door to make sure they were still alone. "It was perfect, and I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you for such a gift. And if you're ever able to talk Rick into it, I suggest you take a night for yourselves in the same manner. I can't remember the last time I slept so well."

          "Sleep, huh?" she asked with the raising of a dubious brow. "Judging by those love bites on your neck, I'd say you did more than sleep."

          Carol's blush deepened as her lips parted on a laugh. "Oh, hush it, you! I swear, you're as bad as the girls with their gossip … and Glenn!"

          "Somebody say my name?" the man in question asked, still rubbing sleep from his eyes as he headed straight for the coffee pot. He had been ecstatic when they'd found the institutional sized brew station in the prison's cafeteria … along with a fifty-pound sack of coffee grounds. He caught Carol's eye as he poured himself a cup. "Hey, where were you and Daryl last night? I didn't see your names on the watch rotation."

          Carol ducked her head sheepishly and took another sip of java, using her beverage as a reason to avoid answering. Daryl could be heard in the block banging on cell doors as he tried to rouse those scheduled for work detail. It wasn't long before Alexandra rushed into the room and began readying things for breakfast. Daryl followed and made a beeline straight for Lori, dropping a pile of rabbit pelts on the table before her.

          She blinked owlishly up at him as her fingers carded through the soft furs. "What's all this?"

          Daryl's gaze darted over to his wife, raising his thumb to his mouth to gnaw the cuticle for a moment before finding his voice. "I … I make stuff with th' pelts. Made Soph a sheath for th' knife she keeps in her boot. They're dead useful for lots o' things. Been savin' those for th' little one comin'. Thought they could be pieced together t' make a nice blanket." He took the coffee cup from Carol she'd poured for him and drank deeply of the black liquid. "If y' cain't sew, I'm sure Carol or Sophia wouldn't mind helpin' y'."

          "Daryl, you don't have to –"

          He cut her off, mumbling into his cup. "Wanted t' say thank y', for what y' did for m' wife. It means a lot t' me, knowin' she's got a friend like you."

          Daryl turned on his heel before she could say anything more, not wanting to get sucked into a conversation where he'd be forced to make small talk or accept compliments, both of which made him uncomfortable.

          Lori brought one of the pelts to her cheek, sighing over the softness against her skin. "I think that's the nicest thing your husband has ever said to me. He didn't even call me Olive Oyl."

          Glenn choked on a laugh, and Carol reached over to squeeze Lori's hand. "You know he doesn't mean anything by it. Think of it as a Dixon term of endearment?"

          The brunette arched a brow at her. "Is there such a thing?"

          Carol nodded. "Better than Merle calling Andrea 'sugar tits'."

 

*.*.*

 

          Carol huffed an irritated sigh and stared down at the binder spread across her lap, trying to organize a schedule for the upcoming week. She could feel her husband's protective gaze slide over her as he and Glenn passed to toss another corpse into the back of the silver Dodge. Her gaze remained focused on her task, her aggravation with his highhandedness refusing to allow her to even acknowledge his presence.

          "How long are you going to give him the silent treatment?" Lori asked, nudging her with an elbow. She'd been sitting with Carol at the picnic table in the courtyard for the better part of an hour working on the schedules, and they'd gotten very little done due to her friend's upset. "Dixon doesn't look the type to like that sort of thing."

          Carol pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping to ward off the headache forming behind her eyes. "He doesn't, which is the point. He'd rather it if I would yell and scream and get the matter solved. He isn't too keen on the prospect of silence."

          At one time, he would have preferred keeping his feelings bottled up, to let them fester so he could brood and sulk. But over the past months, venturing into this open relationship with her, it bothered him terribly. He wanted to know what she was thinking and feeling. There was no room for ill will between the two of them. At any moment, their time could be up, and neither wanted their last words to one another to be ones spoken in anger. Well too bad, she thought hotly. He could just wonder about it until the last walker dropped dead of natural causes.

          "He's just worried about you, Carol."

          She made another notation in the binder without looking up. "I'm sure he is," she replied tightly.

          Carol had no doubt he was worried. Their circumstances there at the prison weren't the best, and combined with what had happened due to their renegade convict and the dream he'd had last night, it was making him irrational. She hadn't taken his 'in my sight' to mean in the literal sense. How was she supposed to get any of her own work done if she was practically glued to his side?

          She'd thought nothing of it when breakfast had been served and he'd coaxed her outside with him to eat before they began work for the day, believing he'd just wanted them to be alone as they had the previous evening. Glenn, Jamie and the rest of the Marines had come out shortly afterwards to begin removing bodies from the tombs and courtyard. They had plans to bring them outside the fences for burning. But as they'd begun their work, Carol could no longer linger. She, Lori and the children had planned to clean the newly discovered library, and she was anxious to begin.

          Rick had been a bit anxious to allow them down there, but hadn't had the nerve to forbid it. Not with Lori giving him the stink-eye. Instead the ball-less bastard had run to Daryl to tattle on them under the guise of asking his opinion. He'd stared at Rick for almost a full minute – enough time for his face to take on an unhealthy stroke level shade of red – before he'd marched down to the tombs to confront his wife. He'd been so furious to find her there, he hadn't been capable of speech. He'd simply tossed her over his shoulder, grabbed Sophia's hand and stalked back up to the courtyard.

          Carl and Lori had followed, and she'd quickly sent the children off for watch duty. If there was going to be a fight between Sophia's parents, Lori thought it best the girl didn't have to witness it. Daryl had set Carol gently on the driver's side of the truck and given her a death glare – which would have had anyone else quaking in their boots – daring her to move. She'd obeyed his silent command for well on to an hour, driving out beyond the fences each time the bed filled, Daryl perched on the edge of the tailgate next to Glenn and Jamie.

          Carol thought he would have calmed down a bit after the third trip, and had ventured back inside once more, thinking of a dozen other things she needed to attend. He'd followed her once more and packed her back outside. She knew he was battling his fears of losing her, but this was getting ridiculous. After the fourth time … she’d been downright pissed, and he knew he was treading on thin ice. He'd even threatened to borrow Rick's cuffs and secure her in the cab of the truck if he had to fetch her one more time. Finally, she'd come to a compromise. If he'd let her work on the schedules, she'd promise to remain outside in the courtyard where he could see her.

          She tapped her pencil against her chin and sighed. "I don't even know how I'm going to finish the schedule if I have to worry about him carting me off with him somewhere every time I have a chore to do," she huffed, glaring at her husband as the truck rumbled towards the gate. His eyes never left her during the short ride, and she was having a hard time letting go of her irritation.

          Lori wrapped a comforting arm around Carol's shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze. "Honey, he loves you. Anyone not deaf, dumb or blind can see it. After what happened, he's terrified of losing you."

          "After what happened, he should realize I can take care of myself!" she snapped.

          The brunette chuffed a laugh. "Men are not rational when they're scared. Perhaps instead of getting upset with him, you should think of what your life was like before Daryl came into it."

          Carol deflated, her shoulders slumping. She brought a hand up to cover her horrified gasp, her eyes filling with misery as she looked at her friend. She shuddered at the thought of still being under Ed's thumb. She doubted she would have made it much past the quarry. "Oh, my god, I'm being such a shit!"

          "He's trying to protect you," she said with a definitive nod. "Just going about it the wrong way, I suppose. Tell you what … for the next week, just schedule yourself on all his shifts. We can handle all the other chores without you."

          Carol arched a dubious brow. "Seriously?"

          "Oh, come on! We can do this," Lori protested laughingly. "And would it really be so bad to spend time with your husband? You're getting as good as Sophia with hunting and tracking, and it's no hardship to take a watch shift with him. Beats the hell out of scrubbing walker guts out of this place. Think of it as a learning experience."

          "And it'll make him happy." Which was all she wanted for him … his happiness. A slow smile curved her lips. No, it would be no hardship at all.

          Lori frowned as the bonfires were lit and thick black smoke curled towards the sky. She pointed out to where their men stood, preparing to return. "I hope those fires don't draw any unwanted attention."

          "We don't have a choice. Their disposal was one of Rick's top priorities and it was agreed upon by the rest of the men." She finished her notations in her binder and closed it. "Let's just hope they're right. More trouble is the last thing we need."

 

*.*.*

 

          "Woman!" Merle glowered at his woman as she climbed the ladder to take her place at his side on the wall. "I believe I toldja t' stay yer ass in bed."

          Martine scowled right back at him as she pulled her bow off her shoulder and looked out over the graveyard of cars, debris and walker corpses which made up the road leading to Woodbury. She shook the pack of saltines – clutched in her other hand – at her chosen mate. She knew she looked awful, little better than one of the biters roaming in the distance, her eyes shadowed with circles from lack of sleep, her skin pale beneath her natural olive complexion, and a permanent frown marring her brow. She was beginning to think the morning sickness was going to end her faster than any known threat to man.

          "Don't need y' tellin' me what t' do, Merle Dixon," she grumbled before turning a benevolent smile on the governor, effectively hiding her revulsion for the man. "Good mornin', Mr. Blake."

          She inwardly flinched at his smarmy smile. "Good day to you, too, Martine. Are you feeling any better?" At her raised brow, he nodded at Merle. "Merle, here, says you haven't been feeling well lately."

          "Nothin' t' worry about, sir. I'll live," she said, moving to Merle's right and stuffing a cracker into her mouth. She elbowed him in the ribs – more sharply than necessary due to his big mouth – and nodded towards the eastern horizon over the treetops. "Somethin's burnin'."

          Dixon's eyes narrowed.

          Blake shrugged as he lined up another golf ball on the plastic tee. "Probably some survivors trying to warm themselves over their campfire."

          Merle shook his head, knowing from experience it was more than a campfire. Billowing black smoke meant something big. He turned his head towards the boss man, waiting for him to take his swing with the club. "Want me t' check it out? Me an' Marty could get there an' back by mornin'."

          Philip tightened the glove on his hand and looked back over the quiet streets of his town. "No, you've been running so much lately, and with Martine being under the weather, I think I'll send Shumpert. He's been itching to get out and stretch his legs."

          Merle hummed in agreement, not at all comfortable with the man sending out his henchmen. At least he didn't have to worry about Daryl and the rest of the group coming across anyone from Woodbury. Not with them still safely tucked away in Griffin. He hoped Abe's team would return with a message for him. Despite his tendency to quarrel with the youngest Dixon, Merle did love his brother. Marty leaned into him almost in relief as Blake grew tired of his backswing and climbed down off the wall to assign men to a scouting run.

          She was thankful for the crackers, and more grateful for the peace and quiet watch on the wall provided some days.

          "Heads up, Dixon, we got incoming," she nodded towards the van eating up the road leading to the walled-in town. "I didn't think Abe's team was due back for another couple days."

          "Open th' gate, Hector!" he called down to the young Latino on the street. He set himself on the ladder and made Marty squeeze in front of him. All he needed was for her to fall and break something with as off-balance as she'd been lately. He refused to believe he had some gentlemanly manners tucked away inside him.

          The van jerked as Tara threw the gear shift into park and hopped out, running around to the back to open the doors. Rosita sat next to a pale, curly haired lad who was taking in everything with wide wary eyes, while Tyreese jumped down to lift an injured woman into his arms to carry her to the clinic.

          Marty reached out to rest her hand on the boy's shoulder, urging him out of the van. "It's a'right, sugar. No one's goin' t' harm y' here," she said gently.

          Merle wasn't in the mood for small talk. There was a story there, and he was determined to uncover it. "Rosie, take 'im t' th' clinic an' have Linda look 'im over."

          Rosita sneered up at him, seconds away from throttling him. "Told you not to call me that, Dixon!"

          "Whatever!"

          "Hey, what's the holdup?" Shumpert called out, the van blocking the gate.

          Abraham nodded to Tara, sending her off to move it further down the street to be unloaded of the supplies they'd scavenged on the run.

          Merle waved them through before turning back to the ginger. "Report!" he snapped.

          Abraham swiped a hand over his face and smirked at his commander. "You ain't gonna like it."

          "Yeah, when do I ever with th' shit storm o' complications around this place?"  
          "Griffin's dead. Cleared out and overrun."

          Merle paled, his jaw clenching. "M' fam'ly?"

          "Gone, looks like they high-tailed it out of there before it got bad. Found the samurai and the kid holed up in the house the group had been staying in. She'd gotten hurt, fell out a second story window in town while trying to get away from some biters. Leg got cut up bad, but the kid was taking care of her best he could."

          "Fuck!" he cursed, rubbing anxiously at the panic building within his chest. "Where th' hell is m' brother?!"

          Abraham pulled a drawing from the messenger bag at his side. "I dunno. We did find some pretty vague drawings on the wall and his initials. Tara copied it so she could show you when we got back. Mean anything to you, Dixon?"

          Merle stared down at the drawing, and felt as if he'd been throat-punched. Four circles, the one farthest to the right bearing an 'x'. He knew if he laid it over the map Marty had given Daryl, it would show him exactly where his family was …  _the prison_. And Shumpert's team was heading straight for them.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Another chapter for your reading pleasure? lol. My darling beta reader, Geektaire, requested smut. She wasn't expecting the evil cliffie from last chapter, the awkwardness of the cock-blocking tub, or the dream which led to angsty smut. Hey, I aim to please. I really hope y'all enjoyed it. PLEASE let me know what you thought.


	67. Chapter 67

 

          "Linda!" Marty barked as she burst through the door of the infirmary, her eyes searching for the nurse. She was relieved to see the woman restocking the dispensary. "Who is on duty today? Dr. S or Dr. Stevens?"

          Marty directed Tyreese to lay the new woman on a gurney as she led the boy to another.

          "Caleb is on call today," Linda informed her, grabbing up a few blank charts to begin on the new arrivals.

          Rosita simply nodded at the woman and left the clinic to fetch the doctor.

          Marty took one chart as Linda took the other and smiled at the boy who stared back at her curiously. "What's your name, sugar?"

          "Zach," he mumbled, a blush tinting his cheeks to have those piercing jade eyes on him with such rapt attention. "Just Zach. Not much use in last names anymore, is there?" His gaze flickered over to his companion, seeking her approval. Her nod had been so faint, if he hadn't been so familiar with her, he would have missed it.

          "A'right, 'just Zach'," Marty teased, "I'm gonna ask y' for some information, get this chart filled out so Miss Linda can give y' a checkup. That ok with you?"

          The boy shrugged. "I guess. Will 'Chonne be ok? Her leg's banged up pretty bad."

          Marty arched a brow at the woman's hiss. So far, she hadn't been willing to speak to any of them, holding her silence as she observed them warily through dark eyes. Dr. S came in and shut the door behind him, drawing the woman's gaze and making her flinch away, but no words passed her lips.

          Caleb picked up on her discomfort immediately and tried to put her at ease. "Just relax. No one here will harm you. I know you must be leery of strangers, but rest assured, you are safe here. I can help you if you let me."

          Marty hopped up on the gurney next to Zach and pulled a protein bar from the pocket of her vest. "Hungry?"

          "Starving!" he replied, taking the food from her without hesitation.

          His companion rolled her eyes and laid back against the pillows. The ginger had weaved a wondrous tale of this town and how they could help them. Her reservations hadn't mattered in the least. She'd come along for Zach's sake, hoping the walled community would be what he needed. He was soft, and it was a wonder he'd survived as long as he had on his own. Perhaps if she allowed these people to help her, she could heal enough to leave on her own. She didn't trust this place for one second, but it might be just what Zach hoped it could be.

          She nodded at the doctor and gnashed her teeth as the nurse helped her remove her bloodstained pants before covering her with a sheet. Caleb pulled the white covering away from her leg, just enough to reveal her stitched wounds, trying to preserve her modesty.

          "'Chonne, was it?"

          "Michonne," she corrected, the first word she'd uttered since she'd been dragged from the house in Griffin, burning with fever and only half-conscious. The antibiotics the Latino girl had given her had helped somewhat to bring the fever down where she was more lucid.

          "Did you stitch yourself?"

          Michonne shook her head. "No, Zach did. We had a first aid kit, but not much else," she murmured quietly through clenched teeth as the doctor probed her wounds. There were two gashes in her left thigh at least eight inches long, stitched with what looked like fishing line.

          "You have an infection," Caleb announced as Linda attached a bag of fluids to the IV she'd inserted into the woman's arm. "Nothing some good antibiotics won't be able to clear up."

          Zach grinned. "See, 'Chonne, I told you coming here was a good idea."

          Michonne's eyes narrowed. "Yeah … maybe."

 

*.*.*

 

          Martine closed the door to the examination room behind her, inhaling deeply as she gained the outer office, the files clutched to her chest to put away before she could be relieved of her duty. She should be in bed, but when had a little upset stomach ever stopped her from being in the thick of things? Her whole life had been filled with drama. Hell, the apocalypse was damn near a vacation. She snorted.

          "Something amuses you, m'dear?" came that all too charming voice from near the desk only a second before the lamp was clicked on.

          Marty's heart plummeted somewhere near the steel toes of her combat boots, her wide eyes guarded as she met Philip's gaze. "No, not at all, Sir," she answered, mentally patting herself on the back when her voice didn't quaver. "Jus' glad our new arrivals weren't hurt so badly they wouldn't recover an' have a chance t' be part of our community. They're settling in if y' wanna go have a chat with 'em."

          The bland mask she wore contradicted the thundering tempo of her heart as she continued to hold his gaze. She knew all too well how he liked to assert his authority over newcomers behind a well-meaning façade. She'd witnessed it too many times now, and each interview made her stomach roil with dread.

          Her raven's wing brows drew together as he focused that smarmy smile on her, a light chuckle passing his lips as he set a file – which he'd been reading by the light coming in through the window - on the desk. "It seems congratulations are in order."

          Marty willed herself not to give anything away, though she was sure he could see the hot flash of anger in her jade green eyes. "You read my file? I suppose you've never heard of doctor/patient confidentiality."

          Blake folded his hands over top of the manila folder containing her information and shrugged. "My people – those I've taken in, fed, sheltered – they're my responsibility. Their needs sometimes supersede things such as privacy." He didn't miss the way her eyes flickered over to the door. "Ah, I see. You haven't told Merle yet. And just why is that, I wonder?"

          Marty hugged the files to her chest, using them like a shield. That man's poison was heavy and viscous, permeating the air and sapping her strength, but she couldn't allow him to intimidate her. Lifting her chin obstinately, she arched a brow. "Merle has enough t' deal with out there, without worryin' about me." Her shoulders pulled into a nonchalant shrug as she pushed away from the door and moved to the filing cabinet, setting the files on top in case Linda needed them later. "Y' know how it is on th' other side of our walls, Mr. Blake. He doesn't need th' distraction."

          Philip rose to his feet and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. It was all she could do to suppress the shudder trying to force its way up her spine. "You're a good woman, Martine. Merle's lucky to have you. We'll have to begin looking for your replacement on his team. Can't have you going out there any longer in your … delicate condition."

          "Of course," she agreed, resting a protective hand over her belly.  _Over m' dead body, y' fucker!_  There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell she'd let Merle leave through those gates without her to watch his back.

          Blake smiled widely at her seeming acceptance. "Well, I won't keep you. I trust you and Karen can find suitable accommodations for the prospective new members of our community?"

          "I'll get right on that, Sir."

          She didn't wait. The moment he rounded the desk and disappeared into the examination room, Marty sprinted for the door, throwing it open only to slam head first into Merle's broad chest. She didn't need to look up to know who it was, his familiar scent assaulting her senses as his arms closed around her.

          His hands stroked over her hair, her back, and she squinched her eyes tightly closed, battling the tears behind her closed lids. She couldn't do this now … not now. They were too close. "Hey, sugar," he growled sweetly against the shell of her ear as her arms banded around his waist. "Y' a'right? Did those new people say somethin' t' y'?"

          "Naw … nothin' like that," she replied, knowing he could see through the sunny smile she turned his way. "Jus' … jus' need some air, I s'pose. Wanna go for a walk?"

          Concern over her obvious upset had taken priority over the panic he'd been fighting since Abraham's crew had returned from their run, but it all came rushing back to the fore. Just as he could see through her mask, Marty was well-versed in seeing through his own. He needed to speak with the newcomers, find out if they'd seen his family, talked to them, but his woman was clearly upset, and she had to come first. "Yeah … c'mon." His body vibrated with restless energy as he led her down an alley, the walls covered in overgrown ivy and wisteria leading to a little courtyard beyond. She took a seat on a bench, her eyes taking him in as he began to pace before her.

          "What is it?" she asked worriedly, her voice soft so it wouldn't carry. There was no telling who Blake might have listening in. It was bothersome enough the man had his cronies following their every move. The governor was smart … Merle was smarter, and so were their people. "Has somethin' happened? Was there trouble on th' run?"

          Merle ran both hands over his short-cropped hair and shook his head. He shoved his fists deep into his pockets to stop himself from reaching for her. She wouldn't appreciate him coddling her when she was on a quest for information. "Shit ain't good, sugar." He looked as if he were on the verge of a royal Dixon meltdown as his crystalline eyes searched hers. "Abe said Griffin is overrun an' our group – m' brother – they're gone … t' th' prison."

          "What?!" she hissed, bounding to her feet, one hand rising to cover her mouth. "That was s'posed t' be a last resort! How does Abraham know they went there for sure?"

          He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and passed it to her. "Abe copied this. It was drawn on th' wall in Daryl's bedroom." Her wide eyes lifted to his, a tiny gasp escaping her parted lips. "Yeah," he scoffed, "matches th' map y' gave th' group when we visited th' farm."

          Marty rose unsteadily to her feet and crumpled the paper in her hand. "Gawd, Merle … th' smoke." She turned her head in the direction of the prison. "Blake sent Shumpert to investigate!"

          "Which is why I need t' get m' ass over there an' head him off. We can't let him find our people."

          Marty raked an anxious hand through her messy, ebony curls. "An' how do y' propose t' do that, Dixon? We're already bein' watched. You'd need a team, an' there's no way we'd all be able t' slip past the fences without bein' noticed. Especially YOU!"

          Merle's eyes flashed hotly as his skin flushed with anger. "He's m' brother, Martine!"

          "What … y' think I don't love Daryl too?" she fumed indignantly. "Or Carol an' Soph? They're  _my_  fam'ly too, Merle. Blake has already begun t' question your loyalty. If we leave … oh, don't even look at me like that. If y' leave, there ain't a chance I'm stayin' behind."

          "Sugar …"

          "If we leave, what's t' happen t' our team? They depend on us. What's t' happen t' all th' innocent people in this town? They'd be left t' th' governor's mercy. Jus' say we do make it out o' here, we get t' th' prison an' take shelter with our fam'ly … it's goin' t' be all out war. Do y' really want t' put so many lives at risk? Y' know Blake wouldn't give up until every one of us was dead."

          "I cain't jus' stand around here an' do nothin'!"

          "You don't have a choice!"

          Merle stared at her, his jaw set tightly, his teeth gnashing together, unable to accept he was in no position to help his brother. "I … I'll go t' Blake, get clearance for us t' make a run."

          Marty closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders as she pulled his head down to rest her brow against hers. "We're walkin' a tightrope over a pit o' vipers, Merle. One wrong move …"

          "I'll fix this," he said, nodding jerkily, his eyes pleading with her to understand. "We've fought too long an' hard t' let th' bastard win."

          She soothed him, one hand tracing over his nape, the other hand roaming gently over his back as he buried his face against her throat and breathed her in. "Baby, it's time. We cain't wait any longer. Everything is in place … you jus’ have to draw him out," she whispered. God help them all if the wrong person overheard them.

          When he lifted his head and caught her gaze, she could see the steely determination deep in his icy blue eyes. "We gotta get our people t'gether … t'night."

 

*.*.*

 

          The tinkling of the crystal decanter along the rim of a cut glass tumblr and the slosh of fine scotch was the only sound to permeate the silence of his humble surroundings. Philip tilted his head to the side, not even bothering to wince at the loud cracking of delicate bones in his neck. He took a long sip from his glass and rested his head against the padded back of his desk chair with a weary sigh. His thoughts drifted – not idly, but at an alarming rate – his mind filled with a deluge of images, plans … possibilities for the future.

          Dixon was becoming a problem. Though he had the man under constant surveillance, there was still no proof his loyalties had changed. He still stepped up to carry out whatever task Blake set forth, yet Philip couldn't shake the feeling he was being duped. And that was unacceptable. Before the turn, he'd ruled his business, his family and personal affairs with an iron fist. Just because civilization had collapsed, he didn't feel as if he should have to change the traits ingrained from a lifetime. He would always get what he wanted, and no one would take his hard-won success from him. He wouldn't allow it. Especially some redneck trash. Dixon was a soldier, nothing more, and could be replaced.

          Marty, on the other hand – he thought with a calculating smile – was a rare and priceless gem. She was far too good for the likes of Merle Dixon. The ebony-haired vixen would make a lovely first lady for the kingdom he was building. He wouldn't delude himself to think it would be easy to tame her, but it would be a challenge he relished. He refilled his glass and smiled. The girl would give him a child. Dixon may have sired it, but he would raise it, nurture it, and revel in his second chance at fatherhood. Martine had been his ultimate goal; the baby was an added boon.

          Blake sneered at the knock on his door, but quickly schooled his features into a bland mask, calling out his permission to enter. He could only hope it was Shumpert returning with a good report. His face morphed into a smirk as the man in question strode into the room, closing the door behind him. "Governor."

          "Shumpert, I didn't expect you back so soon. Please, sit."

          The man chose to stand, hands idle at his side as he stood before the desk. "No time, Sir."

          Philip resumed his seat and narrowed his eyes on the big man. "What have you to report?" he questioned, getting to the meat of the matter. It wasn't often Shumpert refused to have a seat and share a drink with his boss. "Were my suspicions correct? Someone has taken an interest in the prison?"

          Shumpert watched Blake pick up a silver letter opener and twirl it between his fingers, trying to hide the anxiety which seemed to pour off of him. "More than an interest, Sir."

          "What are you saying?"

          "From what we were able to see, the prison is occupied."

          Blake slammed the letter opener onto the desk as he raised cold dark eyes to his lieutenant. "That's not possible. Dixon said it would take at least three teams to clear it. I saw it with my own eyes."

          Shumpert shrugged. It mattered little to him personally. "The yard is clear, Sir. When Crowley went in for a closer look, he reported there are people living there."

          "How many?"

          "Not sure, Sir. Tim counted at least ten from his vantage point … men, women and children. Some of them looked military. I don't know how organized they are, though. There were two kids, maybe early teens, manning the gate."

          "Interesting." Philip sat back in his chair, rubbing a finger over his thin lips. The ramifications of such an occupation in close proximity to Woodbury didn't settle well with him. The prison belonged to him! "Anything else?"

          "We followed your orders … recon only."

          "Why do I feel like there's a 'but' coming?"

          Shumpert nodded his head on his nonexistent neck. "We came upon a hunting party in the woods, most likely members of the group which took over the prison."

          Blake's lips curled back over his teeth in a feral smile. "And did you happen to bring them back?"

          "We did, Sir. A man and a woman. We thought you might want to interrogate them, so we locked them in the cells."

          "Excellent."

 

*.*.*

 

          Marty closed the door of the apartment quietly behind her, relieved to hear the click of the lock from the other side. She quite liked Michonne and Zach, the boy prattling non-stop as she'd shown them to an empty apartment in her building. The warrior woman – who'd come into town with a katana, no less – was suspicious of everything about the town, but Zach more than made up for her lack of words. Marty wanted to talk to her alone, sure she could be a valuable ally to their cause, but now was not the time to broach the subject. Not yet. Her people were waiting for her to join them on the roof, so the meeting could begin, and she was already late. She didn't need Merle huffing down the stairs to fetch her.

          Merle had hardly let her out of his sight the entire afternoon, and had only grudgingly allowed her to set up accommodations for the new arrivals after garnering her promise to meet them in her workshop before ten. Their entire team should be waiting for her by now.

          A sharp gasp tumbled past her lips as she turned around and nearly ran into the cause of their worries. "Mr. Blake, sir!"

          Philip reached out a hand to steady her, and it took everything she had not to bat it away. "I didn't mean to frighten you, dear. Are our new citizens settling in?"

          "Y-Yes," she stuttered, her heart thundering against her ribs. She didn't have time for this, she thought irritably. "Was there somethin' y' needed, sir? I was jus' on my way up t' retire."

          Blake pursed his lips as he regarded her. "Actually, there is. The run team just returned and there were some injuries. I was hoping you'd be able to lend a hand. You just have a way with putting everyone at ease."

          Marty shot a pointed look at the hand still wrapped around her upper arm, but he didn't release her. It was evident he wasn't going to take no for an answer. "What about th' rest of th' medical team? Cain't they handle this?"

          "I've already sent for them."

          "Ok," she agreed, seeing as she had no choice. "Jus' let me run up an' let Merle know where I'll be, an' I'll meet y' at th' clinic."

          He steered her towards the stairs. "That won't be necessary. No need to disturb Dixon when it shouldn't take that long."

 _Shit! Shit! Shit!_  Merle was going to lose his mind if he looked down towards the street and saw her out for a stroll with the governor. But it couldn't be helped. She'd just have to suck it up and hope Merle's wrath could be managed. She was so lost in thought, she didn't notice they'd passed the clinic and were heading to the holding cells.

          "What's going on, sir?" Marty asked, a puzzled frown knitting her brows. "Shouldn't our people have been brought to the infirmary?"

          Blake smirked as he led her down the tin-walled corridor. "Oh, it wasn't our people who were injured. Shumpert came across two dangerous individuals and brought them back here for questioning. It's their wounds which must be tended. I wouldn't want them to die before I can glean any information pertinent to the continued safety of our community."

          Marty felt the icy hand of dread shiver up her spine as he unlocked the door. Philip's hand tightened on her arm as he pushed her through ahead of him. Shumpert was the first one she noticed as her eyes adjusted to the dim lantern light, his hulking form unmistakable where he leaned against the wall, a pistol dangling in the holster at his belt, his compound bow slung over his back. Martinez was next. What the hell could he be doing here? He should be with Merle going over the plan.

          Caesar met her eyes with a cold blank stare, an AK clasped loosely in his hands. What the … No, she wouldn't let herself believe he'd duped them this whole time. But she couldn't dwell on that as a groan issued from the shadows. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth as she met a familiar pair of blue eyes. "Oh, my god!"

          Blake smiled, always pleased with himself when he was right in his assumptions. There was no mistaking the light of recognition in Marty's eyes. "Shumpert, pull up a chair for our lovely Martine." He shoved her down to sit as the big man pulled out a large roll of duct tape to secure her. "Welcome to the party, my dear."

 

*.*.*

 

          "Where th' fuck is she!?" Merle hissed into the darkness. He wanted to rage against the world, angry, confused and panic-stricken over his woman's disappearance. Marty had been missing for well over an hour.

          Sasha caressed the stock of her assault rifle where she sat balanced on the edge of the roof next to her brother. It wasn't the same weapon she used on watch duty. This one she kept on the roof of their apartment building where Merle had instituted their own watch not long after moving to the governor's stronghold. "We did a thorough sweep through the building, Dixon. Abraham, Tara and Rosita are searching the town, and Bob is asking around the watch posts to see if anyone has seen her. Someone has to know where she is, they're just not talking."

          "What about Paco? Y'all ain't seen hide nor hair of him either?”

          Tyreese shook his head, continuing his survey of the town through a pair of binoculars as Merle's steady pacing sounded behind him. "Not since the governor sent him off with the run group. They're back, just haven't seen anyone yet."

          Sasha pushed off the low wall and made a circuit of the roof, her eagle eyes taking in everything below. It wasn't often she'd witnessed their commander close to losing his shit, but she had to admit the thought of Marty being in trouble had them all on edge. A low whistle slipped past her lips as her eyes scanned the street below. She retreated into the shadows, watching as Tyreese passed the field glasses to Merle, angling them where she pointed.

          "Seems like your boy's headed this way," she murmured quietly. "And he's not alone."

          "Fuck!" Merle shoved the binoculars in her direction as he sprinted for the stairs. He didn't want to be caught up on the roof if Martinez was bringing company … no doubt at Blake's order. He ran down both flights of stairs and flung open the door to his apartment, closing it quietly behind him, so the sound wouldn't echo through the building. Moving quickly, he grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and popped the cap into the sink, waiting for the inevitable knock as he tried to slow his breathing.

          He was able to mumble off a quick prayer for Marty's safety before it came. Merle pasted a none-too-friendly smile on his face as he opened the door, his eyes narrowing on Crowley where he stood next to Martinez. "Kinda late for y'all t' be knockin' on m' door, boys. Past curfew," he drawled.

          "Governor wants to see ya," Crowley shrugged.

          Martinez ducked his head, rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck. Merle's eyes flickered over to him briefly, noticing the subtle tell which never boded well. He wanted to put Crowley's head through a wall, so he could question his friend, but that didn't seem likely to happen. His skin crawled with anxiety, and he found himself wishing his brother was there. What he wouldn't give for Daryl's quiet strength and understanding. The youngest Dixon had never failed to have his back, and though he knew his team would be ready to rush into any given situation, it wasn't the same.

          Merle took a long pull off his beer and set it on the table just inside the door. He would gladly listen to his woman bitch and moan about leaving things lying around later. He followed the two men, holding his curiosity until they'd exited the building. "So, what's all this about, Crowley? The run didn't go south, did it?" He knew there wasn't a chance in hell the smoke had come from anywhere but the prison, but he couldn't seem to relinquish that last ray of hope he clung to.

          "Naw, it went ok. Don't really know or care what the governor wants with you. He gives me an order, I carry it out. Just like everybody else, Dixon," the man snickered caustically.

          Merle gnashed his teeth, stamping down hard on his desire to drive his knife into the base of the flunkie's skull. The feeling was becoming more common the more he was forced to be around those loyal to the governor. A shiver crept up his spine as they led him towards the cells, the temperature always a little cooler there in the maze of corridors making up Blake's own personal jail. Very few held down there ever saw the light of day again. He wouldn't allow himself to think of Marty down there, captive, scared and mad as hell. It would end him, and it was imperative he kept his wits about him. He could handle whatever Blake might want to throw at him, but it made him break out in a cold sweat to think of his woman in the hands of that sadistic fucker.

          He could feel the comforting weight of his piece pressed against the small of his back, breathing easier to know he had it along with the knife in his boot and the dagger cuffs Marty had fashioned for him months ago. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom enveloping him in its cloying presence, the scent of fear and blood heavy in the air.

          Merle didn't like the smirk curling the side of Crowley's wide mouth, nor the way Martinez refused to meet his eyes. What the fuck was going on? Caesar followed him into the room, giving him a little push. He turned, glaring, ready to ask him what his problem was, only to find a gun pointed in his face. Shumpert stood stoically against the wall as Blake sat with a hip perched against the table, his face impassive. A whimper drew his attentions to the shadows and Merle felt the blood drain from his face, the sight of Marty tied to a chair, tears spilling from her lovely eyes, making his heart stutter in his chest. Only after he was assured she was well did his gaze find the other occupants of the room. The world came crashing down around his ears seeing his sister-in-law bound and gagged in the chair next to Marty's and his brother sprawled on the dirt floor, blood seeping from a cut near his hairline, unconscious.

          There was no way he could hide the fear and rage barreling through him. He was a bullshitter from way back. It had saved his life on more than one occasion, but even he wasn't that good of an actor.

          Blake clapped his hands as if he'd just been handed the Nobel peace prize. "Well, now that we're all here, let's get this party started."

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: OMG, I never thought I'd get this chapter done. I have to admit, out of 67 chapters, this was the hardest one to write. Sorry for the lack of Caryl in this one, but it had to happen in Woodbury to set the scene for the next chapter. I really hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know. 
> 
> Please Remember to support your favorites by voting in the 4th Annual Caryl Fanfiction Awards on Tumblr!


	68. Chapter 68

 

Earlier the same evening …

 

          Sophia paced restlessly behind the gate, only pausing now and then to scan the forest through the field glasses Rory had loaned her. Twilight was encroaching, but she refused to leave her post, despite listening to Carl complain over his grumbling stomach. Some things were more pressing than food, he should realize. She did feel bad for Lori where the woman sat on a blanket spread out over the grass, but not enough to go inside. Mrs. Grimes was just as worried about Carol as Sophia was, and hadn't hesitated to join the kids on gate duty to keep a watch out for the Dixon's return to the prison. It was only to have been a short hunting trip!

          She stowed the small binoculars in the pocket of her jacket and rolled her eyes as she watched Rick making his way towards them down the hill. It was going to be impossible to refuse him if he ordered her inside. Closing her eyes, she turned back to the fence and listened, only the sound of nature's sweet song meeting her ears. She couldn't hear the soft tread of her parents in the nearby woods nor the quiet gravel of her father's voice as he teased her mother. It was eerie, and she hated the twang of fear which coated her tongue. Her small hand rose to rub against her breastbone where an ache had begun to build. She was strong, her father had made sure of that, but how could she face her uncertain future without her parents to guide her?

          Rick dropped down to sit next to Lori, leaning over to kiss her cheek. "Still no sign of Daryl and Carol?" he asked softly.

          Lori shook her head. "It's not like them to be gone this long. Did they say anything to you before they left?"

          "Daryl's been talking awhile now about heading north. There's a ridge up there – thinks there might be some bigger game - he wants to check out which'll probably keep him out a few days, but he didn't mention leaving today." His eyes scanned the tree line, a worried frown marring his brow. "I wouldn't think he planned to go today what with Carol going along. She's not going to want to leave Sophia for that long, I'm sure."

          "I don't like this, Rick." The anxiety she felt was evident in her dark eyes and fidgeting fingers as they plucked the grass next to the blanket. "Dixon always lets someone know where he's going and how long he'll be. He makes sure everyone else follows the same rule. It's why it works, why it's always worked. Something's wrong."

          Rick didn't want to admit it, but he felt the same sense of unease about their absence. "If they're not back by morning, we'll organize a team to search for them."

          Sophia turned her gaze on him, her fingers fiddling with the snap on her holster where her pistol rested on her hip. "Morning? But –"

          "It's getting dark, Soph. You know it's too dangerous to head out once night has fallen."

          "It's dangerous to leave them out there where anything could happen to them. I swear this is the same shit you pulled with Merle all over again!" she raged, stomping through the dirt to face him.

          "Sophia Dixon!" Lori scolded sharply.

          Rick pushed himself to his knees and grasped the girl's upper arms in a gentle grip. "You know that's not true, Soph. Your mom and dad mean a lot to me, to the whole group. I would never leave them behind." Some of the tension melted from her frame, and he could see her fighting to keep her tears at bay, to be strong. "I'm going to need you to help track them, and you know your dad would have my ass if I took you out there tonight."

          Sophia sniffled. "Yeah, you can't track for shit."

          Rick huffed a laugh. "Exactly."

          She eyed him steadily, searching for any hint of a lie in his grizzled features. "First thing in the morning? You promise?"

          Rick nodded and pulled her closer, holding her tightly as he pressed a kiss to her blonde locks. "I promise. We'll bring them home."  _Or die trying,_  he added silently. "Now why don't you and Carl run on up to the block and grab some dinner? Lori and I will stay out here until Oscar arrives for his shift."

          Carl slipped his hand into Sophia's and gave her a little tug. "C'mon, Soph."

          Rick climbed to his feet and watched them go, his heart heavy. That little girl had been through so much already … an abusive father, the world going to hell, being lost in the woods for days, learning to become strong, almost losing her mother in the tombs, and now this. How much more was she expected to endure?

          "Rick?" Lori asked, pulling him from his thoughts. "What if they ran into trouble? I'm not just talking about walkers. Daryl and Carol are more than capable of fighting them off or holing up somewhere if there's too many. The governor's men are still out there, right? I know we've been keeping an eye out after what happened when you came out here to scout the prison that first time. What if –"

          "It doesn't matter, Lori. If they're alive … I will stop at nothing to get them back. They're our family, and in this world, nothing means more than that."

 

*.*.*

 

          Merle took a step towards Marty, his fist clenched tightly, fire blazing from the depths of his eyes, only to freeze as Blake trained the glock on him. His teeth gnashed as he looked at the man. "Why y' got my woman trussed up like a Christmas goose? What's this all about?" he asked, inwardly seething, his rage helping to quell his panic and center his focus.

          The governor chuckled, shrugging his shoulders as he relaxed back on the table beneath his hip. "Couldn't have her running off to warn you, now could I? Or your little band of misfits."

          Merle watched the man lounge back, that smarmy politician's smile etching his lips, relaxed as his cold eyes raked the others with barely concealed disdain. The jig was apparently up, but there was no way a Dixon was going down without a fight. "Don't know whatcha mean. If y' got prisoners t' interrogate, there's no reason y' coulda had not t' call me in."

          Blake sighed and shook his head. "Merle, Merle, Merle … you might fancy yourself to be the smartest con man to ever play the game, but you don't fool me. Look what I've built through my own blood, sweat and tears. I made this town into what it is now. It was me who pulled it from the ashes of hell and provided a safe haven for my people. Did you really think your little game would go unnoticed?"

          The eldest Dixon stared at his boss blankly, his stomach twisting into knots of apprehension. He caught movement from the corner of his eye, Daryl – likely suffering a concussion – finally rousing from his bump on the head, and he prayed his brother would remain still. He didn't deserve to have the madman's focus settle on him. He felt Shumpert shift behind him, a blow to the back of his legs sending Merle to his knees.

          Pretense but a memory, Blake shoved the muzzle of the glock beneath Merle's chin, teeth bared as he stared down menacingly at his former lieutenant. "Did you really think I'd let you take it from me? Take what is MINE!?" the governor roared, delivering a backhanded blow to Merle's cheek. "You had such potential, such leadership capabilities … It's just too bad you didn't have the brains to back up the brawn."

          "Yer crazy," Merle sneered, spitting out a mouthful of blood, the inside of his cheek a ragged mess where his teeth had torn it open. "Why would I wanna take this place when I got everythin' I need right here without th' headache o' runnin' th' show?"

          Blake changed tactics, ceasing his pacing before the man he'd once trusted and moved slowly in Martine's direction. He paused just behind her chair and Merle's eyes narrowed as if daring the man to touch her. "Now see … that's why we're here. A little give and take seems to be in order." Philip dropped the glock back into its holster and pulled the knife he kept in a sheath on his belt. A wide smirk curled up the left side of his mouth, his teeth gleaming in the low lantern light as he trailed the blade feather-lightly along Marty's jaw. "You  _give_  me the answers I want, and I won't  _take_  my pound of flesh from our lovely girl here."

          "GET TH' FUCK AWAY FROM M' WOMAN!" Merle bellowed, his voice echoing off the tin walls, rage emanating from every pore.

          " _Your_  woman?" Blake snorted. "Do you love her, Dixon? Oh, I can see you do, more's the pity. Tell me something … would you still love her if you knew she'd been lying to you? Keeping secrets from you?"

          Merle lunged forward, trying to break the hold Shumpert had on him, fighting in vain to keep the big man from securing his hands in place with a set of zip-ties. "Th' fuck?!"

          Blake popped a button from the collar of Marty's shirt, his grin widening as she tried to shrink back further into the chair to get away from him. "I stopped in at the clinic this afternoon, and while I was waiting to meet our new arrivals, I had time to do a bit of light reading. Seems your  _woman_  is pregnant." He took great delight in the look of stunned horror clouding the face of his enemy. Blake leaned down to whisper against Marty's ear, his hand drifting to the side of her neck to hold her head in place. "Merle doesn't look very happy to hear your bit of news, my dear. I wonder why that is."

          Daryl groaned from where he lay sprawled at Carol's feet, his breath hitching in his throat as he tried to move, his eyes flying open to take in his surroundings. His body tensed, every nerve ending jolting alive in the need for flight or fight. Hands tied behind his back, he struggled to his knees, swallowing against the gag in his mouth as nausea rose to choke him from the pain in his head. Succeeding in gaining an upright position, he threw himself between his wife and any threat to her. Not on his watch. It was bad enough he had the focus of the armed men in the room. His gaze darted to each of them before ping-ponging between Merle and Marty. Tears streamed down her face, her lips forming the words 'I'm sorry' as she stared at his brother. Merle looked as if he'd been kicked in the balls. He'd never seen him look so defeated before.

          "Finally …" the governor chortled, "…our last guest has decided to join us." He nodded at Martinez to remove Daryl's gag and haul him to his feet.

          Daryl swayed unsteadily, shaking his head a bit – regretting it instantly as a painful throb attacked his optic nerves – to clear his blurry vision. "Th' hell are you?" he asked, feeling as if he'd been chewing on sandpaper. That, however, was the least of his worries. "Where are we?"

          "I'm the governor, and this is Woodbury …  _my_  humble little community," he revealed, flashing a toothy grin. "You were brought here to be tried for trespassing on my property."

          "What?! I ain't never been on your property," Daryl hissed sarcastically. "Ain't never even heard o' y' before. Y' s'posed t' be some big shot or somethin'?" He wasn't about to let on to just how much he knew about the man or his town.

          "The prison ring a bell? That just so happens to be mine." Once again, he moved to lean casually against the table, his gaze trained on the redneck. "How many of you are there? How were you able to clear out the dead?"

          Daryl pressed his lips together in a firm line, his eyes hard, making it clear he wouldn't be divulging any secrets. Blake nodded to Shumpert, and the man sent his meaty fist into Daryl's midsection, causing him to double over. Blake's eyes moved to the silver-haired woman, watching her struggle against her bonds to get to her companion.

          "Does this distress you, my dear?" he asked, intrigued by the abject loathing he could see in the woman's eyes. He did so love a woman with fire, and her obvious desire to help her man proved she had it in spades. He might decide to keep her as well. "Perhaps you will answer my questions."

          Carol smacked her lips as he pulled the gag from her mouth, trying to force moisture to return to her parched tongue. "Leave him alone. We've done nothing to you, nor are we a threat," she replied in barely more than a whisper. The warrior within her retreated, shrinking back in deference of the mask she chose to wear, one of the meek unassuming housewife she'd once been. "Please, don't hurt him."

          The governor smiled gently, almost tenderly at the woman as he leaned forward, his hands braced upon his knees as he bent to her level to meet her eyes. "I don't want to hurt anyone, but I can't allow lawless, dangerous men to roam free around this town. I'm sure you understand my need to keep my people safe."

          Carol averted her gaze, refusing to look at Daryl as he stared daggers at her. She could sense his anger, feel his need to lash out and end the monster before them. Her husband was being goaded by his fear for her safety, for Merle, Marty and those they'd left behind at the prison. Yet, she would worry about soothing him later. Right then, she had to do what she could to lessen the potential for disaster in any way she could, despite Daryl being near his breaking point. Helplessness was not a good look for him. She hoped the governor would shift his attention to her, prayed she could somehow talk their way out. It was a slim hope, but a hope regardless.

          "Then you should know how it is … to have people who depend on you for their survival. That's all any of us can do now, right?" she said softly, watching him through her lashes. "We're all just trying to survive."

          Philip crouched before her, studying her intently. The silver-haired woman intrigued him. He would be the first to admit he was normally attracted to younger women, but this woman … he couldn't get a read on her to tell if she was lying or if there was a ring of truth to both her words and body language. He might have to allow this one to live. He wanted time to uncover each of her secrets at his leisure. "Yes … my people rely on me to keep them safe. There is little trust to be had in this new world. I can't simply take your word that your group is trustworthy, now can I? You would say anything to protect those you care about."

          Carol opened her mouth to argue further, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand, nodding at Shumpert. The big man pushed Daryl to his knees next to Carol and Blake didn't hesitate to strike, grabbing a fistful of Daryl's hair and yanking his head back. Dixon struggled, his fingers brushing Carol's boot, inching closer until he could delve his hand inside for the blade she kept tucked within, a small knife he could hide in his palm.

          Merle, struggling against his bonds, was a good distraction; as was the soft sob which came from Marty. Blake brought his knife up to the pulse point beneath the redneck's jaw, drawing blood. "You wish to protect this one, my dear? He means something to you?"

          "He's m' brother, y' bastard! Let 'im go! Y' want blood, take mine. He ain't done nothin' t' y'," Merle shouted, interrupting, his eyes glued to the trickle of blood trailing down his brother's neck. He owed everything to Daryl. He'd been a poor excuse for a brother, leaving the first chance he'd had to get away from their abusive father, abandoning Daryl to his own personal hell. Later, he'd allowed drugs to turn him into a monster little better than Blake. Daryl had stuck by him, though, and Merle would never be able to make it up to him. Now, he'd rather throw himself under the bus than see his brother suffer. He wasn't the man he had once been, the man who'd cared about nothing but blocking out the pain of his existence. His family was everything, worth sacrificing himself to protect them.

          A glint of madness entered the governor's eyes as they swung to his former lieutenant. "Ahh … the plot thickens. Let me guess, Dixon; you thought to install your brother at the prison with his group and plot to take Woodbury for yourselves. Or did you think you would join them and take my secrets with you?"

          "I swore m' allegiance t' this town. I didn't think you'd take in m' brother's group … didn't think they'd be a good fit considerin' some o' th' shit you've pulled t' get where y' are. They had t' have a safe place, so yeah … I gave 'em th' prison," he prevaricated. It wasn't all lies, but just enough of the truth to save his own ass … for the moment.

          Blake whirled, rising to his feet and backhanding the eldest Dixon, Merle's lip splitting to ooze blood over his stubbled chin. "It wasn't yours to give, though, was it?!" he hissed furiously. "Now, I'm going to have to clean up your mess, Dixon."

          "What are you going to do?" Carol asked, unable to hold her tongue. Daryl pressed back against her knees, trying to shield his wife from the governor's gaze, but there was little hope of him helping her trussed up as he was. "Please, just talk to Rick … our leader. Perhaps the two of you could compromise. There's no need for violence among you when the bigger threat should be the walkers."

          Philip snorted. "Even you can't be that naïve." He ignored the deep rumbling growl from the man at her feet. "Time for talking died with the spread of this virus. It's take or be taken, kill or be killed." He replaced the knife in his sheath, and turned to sneer down at Merle. "Now, we're going to take a ride. These people mean so much to you … you can watch them die before I kill your brother. Who knows, I might let him turn and have you be his first kill. Only then will I come back here and claim your women. You can think about me raising your child while you pray for death, Dixon."

          "Merle!" Marty cried, stark terror awash on her features, hot salty tears trailing over her cheeks. Blake simply laughed as he pulled the man to his feet and pushed him towards the door.

          "Shumpert, bring Dixon's brother. We're going for a ride." He shot a glance at Martinez. "Caesar, stay here with the women. I'll want to see them  _both_  upon my return."

          Carol's eyes were fierce, the fiery need to protect her husband burning in the crystalline depths. Daryl watched as her mask slipped to reveal her warrior spirit, the woman she'd become rather than who she'd been. He struggled against Shumpert as he wrestled Daryl towards the door, fighting to stay with his woman, his wife. The beast roared in his chest as he caught one last glance of her over his shoulder. She would survive until he could come for her. God help them all if she were loosed from her bonds. She would bring the fires of hell down upon them all. It gave him reason to smile. There wasn't a Dixon alive who would go down without a fight.

 

*.*.*

 

          Martinez didn't waste any time, ducking out of the room to see for himself the moment the governor left the gates to bring his wrath to the prison. He couldn't stand to be in that dingy cell with the women, their accusing gazes glaring daggers at him. As soon as Blake left in the jeep with the brothers - Shumpert, Crowley and Tim following in the truck – he bolted back to them, ready to get them out of there.

          He had to force himself to meet Carol's gaze. She appeared outwardly calm, but he suspected she could be just as dangerous as the Dixons – if not more so. He knew for damn sure Merle's woman would slit his throat in the space of a heartbeat if she believed Merle to be compromised. Caesar knelt before Carol and drew his knife from the scabbard on his belt. "Easy there,  _belleza_ ," he murmured softly as he sliced through her bonds. Leaving her to rub the circulation back into her wrists, he moved to Marty to free her as well.

          The man hadn't expected Carol to jump him from behind, her slender arm wrapping around his throat as she pressed a blade to the base of his skull. "Give me one reason not to end you right now," she hissed.

          One wrist free, Marty reached out and slapped him hard across the face. "Answer her, asshole!"

          Caesar relinquished his knife to the brunette and held up his hands in surrender. "What good would it have done for the governor to think I'd switched sides?" he asked, swallowing thickly as sweat broke out on his brow. "I would be dead, and the two of you would've been left here with another of his men." His dark eyes leveled a concentrated stare at Merle's woman. "It would've been worse for you, and you know it."

          Marty nodded at Carol and she reluctantly released him, backing towards the table where their weapons had been tossed. "You'll be lucky if Daryl doesn't put a bolt in your ass just on principle," Carol snorted, slipping her belt back on and checking her pistols.

          "It was the only way I could help!"

          Marty dried her tears on the hem of her flannel shirt and sorted through her own weapons. She checked the magazine on her 9mm and then slid it into the waistband of her jeans before she lifted the AK to cradle in her arms. "Who else knows what went down here tonight?"

          "No one."

          "Good. We need t' alert our people an' see 'bout rounding up th' rest of Blake's men. Then th' three of us can get our asses t' th' prison t' see how we can help," Marty said, fighting off a wave of dizziness and cursing herself inwardly for not eating anything for dinner.

          Carol hefted the hunting rifle she'd left with that morning, her eyes narrowed on Martinez. "You'd better not be playing us, or I'll kill you myself." Her eyes narrowed menacingly. "Don't underestimate me."

          Caesar nodded slowly. "Merle trusted me when he had no reason. It was a big step for him because he believed I was loyal to the governor. He trusted his instincts and welcomed me into the fold, giving me purpose. This is my family, Mrs. Dixon … I will not fail you."

          Martine gave him the stink eye as she gathered her long ebony hair and pulled it into a messy bun as she always did before they headed into  _battle_. She retrieved her messenger bag from the table and shoved Merle's armlets into it, checking to see if any of her things had been removed. Satisfied, she slung it over her head and approached the door. "Trust is a hard thing t' earn back. Let's jus' hope Merle doesn't gut y' before y' can explain things t' him."

          They didn't encounter anyone as they made their way from the holding cells to the roof of the apartment building. Their people were gathered there, and Abraham huffed a sigh of relief as Marty came through the door no worse for wear.

          "You're a sight for sore eyes, darlin'."

          Sasha sidled up beside him. "When we saw Blake leave with Merle … and was that Daryl … we weren't sure what the hell was going on."

          Tara bumped Carol's shoulder with hers. "And what are you doing here? You're supposed to be at the prison."

          Carol sighed as all eyes turned to her. She hated being the center of attention as much as Daryl did, but she knew she'd have to explain. "Daryl and I went hunting this morning … nothing new for us. I'm just glad I had gone with him instead of Sophia." She shuddered at the thought of that madman getting his hands on their daughter. "We were arguing, and the governor's men took us by surprise. We fought, but were outnumbered. Thankfully, his men are careless and didn't think to search me as thoroughly as Daryl."

          "That where you got the knife?" Caesar chuckled softly. He'd wondered where she'd gotten the small blade she'd used to threaten him.

          "Yes. They missed the one strapped to my forearm and the one in my boot. Daryl lifted that one before the governor had him taken away, so at least he's armed."

          "And now Blake's got Merle an' Daryl. He's takin' them t' th' prison, plannin' t' slaughter th' rest of our fam'ly," Marty added, moving to the edge of the roof where Bob kept a careful eye on the street below.

          "What do you want us to do?" Tyreese asked quietly, ready for her orders.

          "I'm taking Marty and Carol with me to the prison. The rest of you need to mobilize and take out the rest of Blake's men," Caesar said. "Don't really care how you do it. They're scum; rapists, murderers … Merle would be the first to put them down."

          Rosita crossed her arms over her chest. "It doesn't feel right killing the living, but I can see your point. There are women and children here who need to be protected, and you know if our people at the prison join us, Rick and Daryl aren't going to want them anywhere near Carl and Sophia."

          "Everyone on board with this?" Marty asked, searching the faces of the people she trusted most in the world.

          Abraham nodded. "Let's do this."

          Bob's dark eyes met Sasha's briefly before he turned his attention to their leader's woman, his second in command. "What about Blake?"

          Marty paused with her hand on the doorknob, prepared to leave. Her jade green eyes glowed with purpose. "Leave him t' us. Regardless, he won't be returnin' t' Woodbury, leastways not alive. I promise y' that."

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl bowed his head, his chin resting against his chest as the icy wind beat mercilessly against his face and whipped his hair away from his eyes. The open jeep wouldn't have been his first choice of transportation had it been up to him. But this wasn't about needs … no, this was all about the governor putting the Dixon brothers on display for all to see. The stupid fucker, Daryl cursed inwardly. It would take a lot more than that smarmy wannabe politician with his oily smile to take down a Dixon … much less two. Blake was taking his time, actually driving the speed limit as he headed towards the prison, wanting his prisoners to have time to dwell on the minutes they had left.

          His arm bumped against Merle as he opened the small pocket knife he'd lifted from his wife's boot, earning a glare and a mumbled epithet. Daryl fought back a smile as Merle turned his focus back on the governor's constant monologue as the man continued to expound on the many vile tortures he had in store for the members of their family. Let Merle think Daryl had given into his nerves. They were squeezed into the tiny bench seat together in the back, and as long as Blake's concentration was on Merle, Daryl could turn his own attention to freeing them.

          He had little room to maneuver as he sawed through the zip ties. It would have been so much easier had the governor's men used rope instead, but there was no use pondering  _what ifs._  He had to get them out of this mess. Daryl wanted to blame Merle, but it wasn't his brother's fault … not really. It wasn't his fault the bastard had grown suspicious. He also suspected the governor's desire to claim Marty had had a lot to do with the timetable. He shuddered, not wanting to think about what Blake would try to do to their women.

          "Th' fuck y' doin'?" Merle hissed, shooting Daryl another heated glare. "Fidgety little fuck. Now's not th' time for this shit."

          "Your brother doesn't seem to be as calmly accepting of his fate as you are, Merle," Blake said cheerfully, eyeing them both through the rearview mirror. "I'm going to enjoy gutting him while you watch … letting him turn so he can feast on you."

 _Keep dreamin', asshole!_  Daryl shouted within his head. He didn't like the look of defeat which washed over his brother's face. It was Merle's worst nightmare come to life … having to put down someone he cared about. Daryl remembered all too well how his brother had reacted to their Uncle Drew's death. Merle still blamed himself for freezing up and not putting Drew down before he could take a bite out of Jackson. Daryl still mourned the loss of his uncle, but they were well rid of their father. He didn't want to think of trying to survive this new world with Jackson Dixon hounding his heels. He never would have found the courage to pursue Carol, to save her …  _love_ her so openly.

          And he did. The need to have her at his side was almost a physical pain in his heart, even though he had no desire for her to be anywhere near the fighting which would surely ensue. Merle's most trusted comrades were still in Woodbury. Surely, they would search for Marty and help her escape … help Carol escape. His wife was a warrior; she would do anything within her power to make her way back to his side, to Sophia. He sent up a silent prayer to a god he'd stop believing in long ago,  _begging_  him to keep her safe. She had to live. He didn't want to walk an earth where she didn't exist. He would go on for their daughter if needs be, but he would be empty, forever missing the piece of his heart, his soul, where she dwelled.

          Daryl stilled, the knife still resting in his right hand. He could feel the break in the flimsy plastic, knew it wouldn't take much to pry his wrists apart at an opportune moment. He couldn't take the chance of freeing his brother just yet, not with Blake's attention focused on Merle. They needed a distraction once they arrived at the prison. He just hoped it wouldn't cost either of them their lives.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Well, we're moving a little closer to the endgame. I really hope y'all enjoyed it. Please send me some love (or hate) in a review. Nothing more I love than interacting with my readers :D


	69. Chapter 69

 

          Rick nodded to Glenn as the man approached, his eyes focused on Carl and Sophia as they inventoried their backpacks. For two very young preteens – though not for too much longer – they believed in military precision when it came to getting ready for a run. It wasn't to be a run, but rather a simple scouting expedition in the nearby woods where Daryl and Carol had disappeared for their hunt the day before.  _Constant vigilance!_  Rick could hear the hunter in his head as he'd trained them … from hand to hand combat, to knowing what supplies to take on a run, to the proper use of each weapon. His friend was a valuable resource to the group, and Rick was thankful he could call him friend. They would never have gotten this far without him.

          Glenn arched a brow as Sophia removed two grenades from the box in her pack and handed one to Carl before dropping the other into a little pouch on her belt. "Is that … a grenade?"

          Rick's brows reached for his hairline. "Sophia!"

          The girl turned to face him, her blue eyes hard and focused. "Did you want one too?" she asked, taking another from the box and holding it out to him. "They're only for dire emergencies, though, so don't use it if you don't have to."

          Rick took the explosive from her and tucked it away on his belt. Lord, she was her daddy made over, and that was saying something considering she wasn't his blood. "Does your mama know you have these?"

          "No," she murmured, drawing out the word, "but Dad does. He says what Mama don't know … won't hurt  _us_."

          Carl snorted and pulled the brim of his hat lower over his eyes. "Don't worry, Dad. Daryl made sure we know how they work and to respect them as the weapons they are. They're not a toy."

          Glenn hid a grin as he ducked his head. "I'm going to go get the truck ready," he mumbled, sauntering off before his laughter bubbled over.

          "You two get ready to go … we're leaving in ten minutes. I just need to talk to Lori before we go." He shook his head as he turned to head back to C block. Rick didn't have to go far. Lori was stomping her way across the courtyard followed by two very large shadows … Axel and Big Tiny.

          "They're still not back?" Lori asked, hugging her arms over her middle as she searched the yard for any sign of the Dixons.

          "No, and I'm getting worried. I've been up since dawn and haven't seen hide nor hair of them, so me and Glenn are going to take the kids out and see if Sophia can track them," he sighed wearily, bracing himself for a fight.

          She regarded him through narrowed eyes, silently checking him over to make sure he was decently armed. "Did you pack extra ammo in case you run into trouble?"

          Well, wasn't this just the morning for surprises, he thought. "That's it? You're not going to fight me on this?"

          Lori huffed a short laugh. "How can I, Rick? If it was me and you out there, Carol wouldn't let her worry for Daryl stop her from sending him after us. I can't do any less. I want our friends back." She glanced over her shoulder at the two former inmates. "I suppose I'm stuck with them, considering you're taking the kids with you?"

          "I can't leave you unprotected, and they've given us no reason not to trust them." He leaned in close to her ear to whisper, "Besides, I know you can handle them if they get out of line."

          Lori's lips twitched as he pointedly looked down at the knife and handgun positioned on her belt. She couldn't help the feeling of pride which washed over her to see her husband acknowledge how far she'd come in her efforts to learn to defend herself and their child. "How long do you expect to be gone?"

          Rick planted his hands on his hips and squinted out towards the tree line on the far side of the protective fences. "Three or four hours at the very least. I want to be thorough." He turned to face her again. "What does the schedule look like?"

          She brushed her long hair over her shoulder and scrunched up her nose. "I swear I don't know how Carol can be so organized. She has OCD or something, I'm sure. From what I could glean from the binders, Jamie is taking his men out to the rear section of the fence to do some repairs. Alex and Patricia are working on inventorying the pantry. Hershel and Sprite are working in the infirmary, carting things up to C block where they've set up a temporary clinic. The rest of the group is divided between watch, laundry and cleaning bloodstains. We have to try to make this place livable … even if it is only temporary."

          Rick wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest, his lips nuzzling at her temple as he stared the two men down in a silent communication to protect his wife. "You and Carol make a great team, Lori. I'm sure everything will run smoothly while I'm gone." He sighed and took a step back. "Just please … take care of yourself."

          Carl ran over to hug his mother when he saw his father ready to depart. "Don't worry, Mom. We'll find them."

          "I know you will, my brave boy." She hugged him back fiercely. "Make sure you watch over your Dad and Sophia."

          "I will."

          Lori watched them begin their walk towards the gate where Glenn was waiting with the truck as Axel and Tiny stepped up on either side of her. She tried not to roll her eyes, instead glancing over at Randall and Beth as they sat on the picnic table with their morning oatmeal, chatting quietly. Her stomach churned queasily, but she knew it had nothing to do with her pregnancy. She was now late in her second trimester, and hadn't had a bout of morning sickness in months. No, this flare up of nausea had everything to do with worry over her family and the dangers they would face leaving the prison.

          "He'll be alright, Ms. Lori. Rick's a strong leader from what I've seen so far," Axel said with a smile for her.

          "I'm sure you have some things to do today to take your mind off them being gone, right?" Tiny asked quietly in his reserved manner.

          Lori nodded absently, her gaze following Rick as he neared the fence enclosing the courtyard. "Yeah, there's always some busy work to attend to, but –"

          A scream burst free from her throat as Axel's blood splattered across her face, a hole gaping in his temple. It was cut off quickly as Big Tiny pushed her to the ground next to the fallen inmate. More gunfire erupted, and she felt her savior fall beside her, leaving her sandwiched between the two dead men. Lori could hear running footsteps, cries and yells, the sharp  _ping_  of bullets spraying over gravel and metal, but she couldn't move, trapped as she was. Her heart thundered in her chest, the blood in her ears deafening, as the bodies moved around her, each thud of a bullet hitting one of the fallen men sending a prayer to her lips.

 

*.*.*

 

          Rick hadn't hesitated when the first shot had been fired, grabbing each of the children by their packs and shoving them headlong towards a cluster of metal filing cabinets they'd cleared from the block, hoping it could offer them decent cover. He made sure they were both unharmed before he glanced back to where Lori had been. Beth and Randall were running towards C block for weapons, he was sure, but his heart nearly stopped when he saw the men he'd set to protect his wife, sprawled out on the concrete, their bodies riddled with bullet holes. He couldn't see his wife! God, NO!

 

*.*.*

 

          The governor chuckled, holding the smoking semi-automatic rifle, reveling in the damage he'd wrought. He glanced over his shoulder at the brothers still bound and helpless in the jeep. "The woman … that wouldn't happen to be the leader's wife, would it?" he taunted. He'd seen the embrace between the two before Rick had left her there with the others. It was as good a guess as any. "From the looks of it, she's pregnant. That should send a clear message, don't you think, Merle?"

          "Th' fuck's wrong with y', wantin' t' kill an innocent unborn baby?" Merle spat in disgust.

          Blake chuckled mirthlessly. "I have people who depend on me, Dixon. I can't afford to be seen as weak."

 

*.*.*

 

          Carl grabbed a fistful of his father's shirt as Rick moved to go to Lori, pulling him back. "Dad, you can't! You're gonna get yourself killed!"

          Rick pressed his back to one of the filing cabinets and checked his rifle, sparing a moment to check the chamber and magazine before ducking out to return fire. The man who'd commandeered the guard tower sent another spray of bullets at him, and he was forced back. "Who was on duty in that tower?!" he asked the kids over the noise.

          Sophia turned her fretful eyes towards him as she pulled her bow from her back. "Cameron."

          Rick cursed under his breath as Carl peeked around their cover to see what he could determine, but his father pulled him back with a stern glare. "We can't get to your mother until we take him out up there."

          "We still have the grenades," Sophia offered with a shrug. "I just don't know if I can throw it that far. If it lands at the base of the tower, it'll compromise the structure, but will it be enough to take it down?"

 

*.*.*

 

          Alexandra met Beth and Randall at the door, passing a rifle to each of them, checking the two to make sure they were armed with both handgun and knives at their belts. "Go … you know the plan and where you're supposed to be in case of attack!"

          Beth slid a magazine into place and pulled back the mechanism to load the chamber. "Lori's down, trapped between Axel and Tiny, but I can't be sure she's still alive with the all the hits they've taken."

          Patricia herded them towards the second floor, up to Daryl and Carol's perch where they would have a clear vantage point to return fire through the window. "There's nothin' we can really do right now, Bethie. Stick to the plan, or Dixon's gonna have our asses when he gets back."

          "Kayla!" Alex called, poking her head back into the common room. "Move your ass, girl, we gotta go!"

          The short brunette came bustling into the block, a rifle on each shoulder and a bag full of ammo slung across her chest. "What about Sprite and Hershel?"

          "They know what to do!" she returned, leading the way to the stairwell which would see them onto the roof of the prison.

 

*.*.*

 

          "RICK!" Maggie screamed, avoiding a spray of bullets as she ran – heavily armed – towards where he and the children were hunkered down. She wedged herself between the kids and looked them over quickly, breathing a brief sigh of relief to see them unharmed. "Lori's alive, but there's no chance of getting to her unless we can take out the man in the tower."

          The man banged his head back against the cabinet, wracking his brain as he tried to come up with a plan. A calculating glint entered his eye as he looked at them each in turn. "Alright, we're going to go with Sophia's idea."

          "But –" the girl protested.

          "I'm going to use the grenade. If nothing else, it could very well knock him off the tower. Regardless, it should stun him enough for us to take him out."

          "Everyone else is movin' into position," Maggie informed him. "Two more have been spotted … one to the south, and the other keeps dipping in and out to the north. I'm hopin' Patricia and the others might be in range to deal with them."

          Carl tilted his head to the side questioningly. "Why didn't they bring more men if they were going to attack?"

          "I can't even begin to guess, son. They might have others at the ready in case they find themselves outnumbered. Right now, we have the advantage, and we're going to make sure we don't waste it. We're doing this!" he yelled over the next barrage of gunfire. "As soon as the shooting stops … Maggie, run for Lori and try to get her inside … we'll cover you."

 

*.*.*

 

          At the first gunshot, Glenn abandoned his position where the truck was parked at the gate and sprinted towards the overturned bus. He sent up a prayer to whatever deity was listening that they hadn't had time to repurpose or dispose of the dilapidated vehicle. It would provide adequate cover … at least he hoped. Who could be firing on them and why? He gripped the AK tightly to his chest and inched closer to the rear of the bus, chancing a quick glance past the fence towards the source of the gunfire.

          What he saw made his heart sink. Merle and Daryl were captive in the back of a Jeep, bound and forced to watch as the madman standing nearby attempted to slaughter their loved ones. And if The Dixon brothers were here, where the hell was Carol? The governor had found them. Glenn sent off a round of bullets without any real aim, his heart beating furiously. He couldn't help but worry over Maggie, praying she was safe, yet knowing she'd put herself right in the thick of battle. Bullets pinged against the bus, and he pressed himself back against the undercarriage.

          Glenn moved forward to take aim this time, directing it to the south where he' glimpsed a man in the trees. Finger on the trigger, he was blasted back by a billowing percussion of sound and air before he could fire off a single shot. He squinted against the sun and a haze of free-floating dust as the watchtower - closest to C block - tilted precariously, coming to a stop seconds after ejecting two bodies from the catwalk.

 

*.*.*

 

          Tim - one of the governor's most trusted flunkies - staggered to his feet, groaning from the jarring impact of his body hitting the ground. He had no time to take stock of his injuries, however; staring down dumbly at the first arrow which struck his chest. It was followed by two more and a gunshot to his gut. He could feel his life's blood gushing from his wounds as he gaped at the children … unable to believe he'd been taken out by mere kids.

          Weak from blood loss, and with a trembling hand, he tried to take aim, uncaring if it was a mere boy or not. He never got off the shot … a flash of blonde hair and rapid-fire movement the last thing he saw before an arrow was imbedded between his eyes.

 

*.*.*

 

          Maggie ran for Lori, their closest threat neutralized, Rick only a step or two behind her. "You two stay down!" he yelled towards Carl and Sophia, already working to move bodies off of his wife.

          "Oh, God! Rick, look out!" Maggie cried, rushing to grab her knife. She plunged the blade into Big Tiny's temple as his walker opened its eyes, having apparently caught its first scent of fresh meat. If they'd have been but a moment longer, Lori would have been the next casualty, the next grievous loss they would have had to bear.

          More bullets sprayed the concrete next to them as Rick swept his hysterical wife into his arms and ran hellbent towards the door leading into the common room, Maggie covering their retreat. He collapsed to his knees, easing her down in front of him. Rick cradled her face, his wide terrified eyes scanning her willowy form for injury. When he was assured of her well-being, he crushed her to his chest in relief.

          "Baby … Lori, I can't stay with you. I need you to be strong and go on up to the roof with the others," he said desperately, pleading with her to do as he asked without question.

          "Carl?! Where's my baby, Rick?!" she wailed, using him as leverage to push herself to her feet. "Tell me you didn't leave him out there!"

          "He's safe," her husband was quick to explain. "He's with Sophia. They're watching each other's backs, and they're out of the line of fire. Now stick to the plan, Lori. I need to know you and our baby are safe. Please … please do this for me."

          She let him go and nodded her agreement despite her fear, taking the rife Maggie held out to her. Lori's mind whirled with questions, but she knew every second counted. He kissed her hard and bolted out the door, leaving her to make her way to the roof.

 

*.*.*

 

          The sergeant gave silent commands when the sound of gunfire reached the Marines at the rear of the prison. It looked as if when the penitentiary fell, a bomb had been set off in a last-ditch effort to take out as many walkers as possible. Now it was up to them to seal off the gaping hole and rebuild their protective walls to keep more of them from getting into the tombs. The five of them abandoned their tools and jolted to attention, Jamie taking Miles and Rory with him to the left and sending Brian and Tessa off to the right, weapons hot, prepared to defend their home.

          They moved with quiet stealth, knowing they'd be facing unknown adversaries rather than walkers, keeping to cover as they advanced. The sergeant's heart leapt to his throat in blind panic he was forced to squelch as he watched Sophia and Carl sprinting across the prison yard towards tower two. "What the hell are they thinking?!" he hissed to Miles on his left.

          "The fuck is Rick or Glenn? You think they're down?"

          "Movement quarter click north!" Rory informed them, ducking behind a stack of pallets near an abandoned loading dock. "Bowman."

          Jamie crept closer and raised his assault rifle. "Not for long."

 

*.*.*

 

          Carl studied Sophia anxiously as she peered out from behind the cover of the filing cabinets. They were picking their moment to make a break for tower two, and already his stomach churned with dread. "If we do this, our dads – both of them – are going to kill us. And that's  _IF_  we even make it to the tower."

          "Carl!"

          "Just saying," he huffed. At the moment, he wasn't worried if she got mad at him. He was more interested in surviving past lunchtime.

          "If we can make it to the tower, we can provide ample cover for Glenn, so he might be able to take out the asshole to the south. He's pinned down, Carl. We can't just leave him there," she fumed, despite her shaking hands. "We have to try!"

          "Soph, this ain't Full Metal Jacket! You're not a Marine, and this is not a game of Black Ops. You could die!" he tried talking sense to her.

          "He's got my Dad and Uncle Merle, Carl," she spat, her eyes desperate and pleading for him to understand. "I'm not going up to the roof and sit on my hands when I know we can help. I c-can't …" Her hands fisted in his plaid flannel, her lower lip trembling. "I can't lose him! I don't even know where Mama is … I can't lose Daddy, too."

          Carl pulled her close and coiled his hand into her shoulder-length blonde hair as her head came to rest on his shoulder. He couldn't lose her either, he thought frantically. He knew she'd go it alone if he didn't go with her, and that wasn't likely to happen. There was no way he'd allow her to go out there without him to cover her back.

          He pulled back from her, steely resolve written across his young features. "Are you sure we can do this, Soph?"

          "Yes!" she exclaimed as he caved. "We're fast and smart, and … really, you think they're gonna be worried about a couple kids?"

          Carl rolled his eyes. "If they knew you like I did, they'd be shaking in their Nikes."

          "We run," Sophia said, her voice exuding the seriousness of what they were about to do. "We don't look back and we don't stop. If we're cut off, we veer left towards the bus where Glenn can cover us, got it?"

          Carl nodded, though his mouth was twisted into a grimace. He really didn't want to get shot. "Run, don't stop, don't look back … a'right, I'm good."

          Sophia arched a brow. "Yeah, y' look it," she snorted.

          "On three?"

          "Yep."

          Sophia sent up a prayer for her mother, her father, and her beloved uncle as Carl counted down. "GO!"

 

*.*.*

 

          Daryl felt the zip ties around his wrists break free beneath the strain he exerted, a wealth of relief washing through him. He didn't hesitate to start in on his brother's bonds, quickly sawing through them. He'd watched the man in the tower meet his end, a little impressed with his daughter for using the grenades she’d hoarded away in her pack. His kid was smart as a whip, he thought proudly. The Marines were advancing, having already taken out the bastard with the bow Merle had called Shumpert. The same fucker who'd taken him and Carol back to Woodbury.

          "Oh, shit!" Merle hissed, his voice barely a whisper. "Is that … Peach?"

          Daryl stopped sawing at the ties around Merle's wrists and cursed silently under his breath. The governor was still sending off frequent spurts of gunfire towards the prison while prattling incessantly about how he was going to enjoy gutting each member of the group. He and Merle had to move now. Where the hell was Rick, and how could he even think of letting the kids out in the line of fire?!

          Merle's hands fumbled for the knife, trying to take it from Daryl. "Give it here, for fuck's sake," he seethed. "Get yer ass out there, an' get her little butt somewhere safe. Goddamnit, where th' fuck is Rick?"

          "Y' almost free, Merle. Shut th' fuck up before he hears y'," he whispered back, nodding towards Blake.

          "He's mine, little brother. I've earned this kill, an' y' know it." His icy blue eyes met those a shade darker as he looked over his shoulder at Daryl. "Th' things I had t' do for that man t' keep m' cover, t' keep Marty safe … I owe him."

          Daryl pressed the knife into Merle's hand as the tie broke, and nodded. "Stay safe." He didn't wait, bolting out of the jeep and making a break for the fence where he knew there was a hidden cut in the chain link leading into the dog run, his only thought … getting to his daughter. He would not be able to face his wife if he allowed anything to happen to Sophia.

 

*.*.*

 

          Glenn felt his heart threaten to come to a screeching halt as he watched the children run towards the tower, bullets spraying the ground behind them. "C'mon, c'mon! Oh, god, they're not gonna make it." The Marines which made up a part of their group had joined the fracas, moving in to cover Sophia and Carl, the kids changing direction when they nearly got caught in the crossfire. They charged blindly towards the bus, Carl holding a fistful of Sophia's jacket to make sure they didn't get separated.

          Daryl had somehow broken free of his bonds and made his way into the dog run, his feet eating up the gravel as he ducked low and ran towards the cover of the bus.

          The spray of bullets from the south had ceased, Rick – armed with an M16 – firing wildly towards the man Blake had stationed near the tree line. "Carl!" he roared, his voice thundering across the prison yard, a red haze or rage overtaking his vision as he viewed the threat to his child, to his people and home.

          It would end in a cacophony of blood, bullets and death … and it would end today.

          Sophia and Carl slammed into her father as Daryl nearly squashed Glenn against the undercarriage of the bus, their bodies sprawling and limbs flailing as they all fought to right themselves. Daryl yanked the kids out of harm's way and shielded them, Glenn peeking around the corner to see if he could figure out what was going on.

          "Rick took out the guy to the south," he panted, turning back to the others. "That just leaves the guy who had Daryl and Merle in the jeep."

          Rick chose that moment to dive behind the bus, adding his body to the human shield in front of the children. "Are y'all ok? Anybody hit? Goddamnit, Daryl, you're bleeding everywhere!"

          Daryl looked down at the shallow groove in his bicep.  _Fuck! Carol's gonna be pissed._  "It's jus' a flesh wound."

          "Doesn't it seem awful quiet?" Sophia asked, her voice muffled where her face was pressed against Daryl's back. "Shouldn't someone check to see what happened?"

          Daryl had to admit, she made sense, but he was still pissed she'd taken such a risk. "Shut it, you! Jus' wait 'til your mama finds out what y' did. How many times I got t' tell you two t' stay in th' fkn block in case of attack?!"

          "But, Daddy! I -" She sputtered, trying to push him away enough to draw in a deep breath. "We were coming to find you and Mama! It's not like I was expecting an attack!"

          He rounded on her, his face mottled with exasperation. Didn't she know how much she meant to him by now? To her mother? He gripped her upper arms and pulled her against his chest. "I don't wanna hear that shit, Sophia Lynn. There ain't nothin' more important than y' bein' safe. When y' saw th' danger y' shoulda got yer butt inside, and you're grounded 'til y' learn t' listen." He turned his furious stare on Rick. "An' what th' fuck were y' thinkin', lettin' them out in th' middle of this shit?!"

          "Guys," Glenn said, drawing their attention to his smiling face. "You might want to hold off on the yelling … I think it's over, but all the noise from the gunfire has drawn walkers in. Looks like we're gonna be busy for a while."

 

*.*.*

 

          The confident smile Blake wore melted from his face as his eyes drifted to the little blonde-haired girl running across the prison yard as fast as her thin legs could carry her. The gun in his hands lowered to hang at his side, lips parting on a gasp. "Penny …" he whispered, taking an unsteady step forward. How could it be? he thought numbly, his mind unable to grasp that this was  _not_  his child. This was his second chance. He could take her home to Woodbury and keep her safe. He wouldn't allow anything to harm her ever again. His little princess, safe and protected within the fortress he'd built.

          "Time's up, asshole," a belligerent voice filled with venom chortled next to Blake's ear as a beefy arm wrapped around his throat.

          "No! You don't understand … my daughter. I have to get to my daughter!" He struggled to free himself, single-minded in his focus to get to the child.  _His_ child!

          But Merle cared nothing for what the man thought. Philip Blake had plunged into a pit of madness at the beginning of the outbreak, causing death and destruction in his wake. He'd forced his followers to commit unspeakable acts in his bid to fortify Woodbury, and now it was time to pay the piper. Or in this case, one very pissed off redneck who wouldn't allow the governor to harm his family.

          Without an explanation or a moment of hesitation, he gripped the knife he'd taken from his brother and jammed it up into the base of Blake's skull. Vengeance for the innocent lives he'd taken, those he'd tormented and defiled before tossing them in his walker pits or adding their severed heads to his trophy tanks. The world was bad enough with the dead roaming the earth. There was no room for men like Blake, not if he could help it. The body slumped to the ground and Merle couldn't resist spitting on it. "Hope y' burn in hell, y' bastard. An' even that's too light of a punishment for yer sorry ass."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Gawd! I absolutely HATE writing action scenes. I tried to keep each little group separate to avoid confusion. I really hope I didn't disappoint anyone. I cannot express enough the level of gratitude I owe to my betas BettyBubble and Geektaire for putting up with my incessant whining and nagging during the writing process. I love y'all so much! I want to thank EVERYONE who has read and reviewed this story. Without your support, this story would not have happened. One more chapter and it’s a wrap, my loves!


	70. Chapter 70

 

          Rick sent Glenn up to the prison to assure everyone else the small battle was over, knowing the man would want to see Maggie was well with his own eyes instead of taking his word for it. Jamie tried to console his team over Cameron's loss, sending Miles and Rory off to dig a grave in their small cemetery while Tessa and Brian began working on the mounting walker population at the fence. It was with a heavy heart he trudged up to cell block C to relay the news to Kayla. Without a doubt, she would be devastated.

          Daryl laid a hand on Carl's shoulder, hauling him back as he made a move towards the gate. "Where th' hell y' think you're goin'? Don'tcha think y' need t' get your ass up t' th' block t' check on your mom? She's gonna be half crazy wonderin' if you're ok."

          "But I thought I could help at the fence. I –"

          "In other words," Sophia chuckled, "he's afraid to face her."

          The hunter's eyes narrowed on his daughter. "Yeah, I can't imagine she's gonna be too happy with you either, baby girl."

          "We'll all go up and see her together," Rick said, moving to the gate to open it for Merle.

          He moved past Rick, his eyes searching out his brother and niece. Sophia launched herself at Merle, wrapping her arms around his neck and her long spindly legs around his torso. "Uncle Merle! Are you ok?" she wailed into his shoulder.

          "Peach … hey, it's ok, don't cry." He shot a pleading look at Daryl as she continued to cry. "We gotta get back, lil' brother … take his body back an' bring this shit to an end. Marty … I gotta –" He paused, pressing a hand to the center of his chest, moving Sophia onto his hip. If he didn't know better, he'd swear he was having a heart attack.

          Sophia cried out as he dropped her and fell to his hands and knees, struggling to breathe. Rick looked panicked and turned to call for someone to fetch Hershel, but Daryl laid a hand on his arm and shook his head, recognizing the signs.

          "Fuckin' breathe, Merle," he barked gruffly, rubbing his brother's back with a gentle hand. "You're havin' a panic attack, s'all. C'mon, deep breath. Can't have y' fallin' apart when we still need t' go get our girls."

          Merle let Daryl roll him onto his side, still fighting to get enough air, cursing inwardly. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had an anxiety attack. It was all too much, being outed, held captive, threatened, Marty being in danger, his brother and Carol there and no way to help them, the attack on the prison …

          "Th' fucker thought Peach was his daughter," he rasped, staring up into Daryl's worried countenance. "He ain't never mentioned havin' a kid. Y' think she might be there at Woodbury locked up or somethin' t' keep her safe?"

          Sophia rubbed her small hand over his breastbone as she'd seen her mother do for Daryl on a few occasions. "Carl, grab a bottle of water from my pack," she ordered the boy at her side. She was beginning to freak out a little, never having seen her uncle lose it like this.

          "Fuckin' help me up, for crap's sake! I can't afford a siesta w-when Marty's in trouble," he panted, the pain in his chest beginning to subside.

          Carl winced as he handed the bottle to Sophia, nodding off towards the tree line where Blake still lay by the jeep. "Eww," he murmured, wrinkling his nose. "We just gonna let them eat him?"

          "Shit!" Daryl rose to his feet and trotted towards the gate, taking Sophia's bow and quiver with him. "Th' bastard has t' be recognizable for Merle's plan t' work. Can't have th' geeks gnawin' off his face." Rick tagged along to help, using his machete to cleave his way through the walkers gathered around the governor's body.

          Sophia dragged her eyes away from her father and Rick, the blood chilling in her veins as she stared out at the road where a single Humvee with a machine gun mounted to the roof barreled towards the prison. "Hey, we got incoming!"

          Merle rolled to his feet and herded the kids towards the overturned bus, grabbing the rifle Glenn had left for them before he'd gone back up to the block. He climbed up a bit on the undercarriage, enough to see clearly and take aim. Rick and Daryl had tossed Blake's body in the back of the jeep, and were taking cover behind the vehicle, the deputy lining up a shot, ready to fire if the occupants of the jeep posed a threat.

          Carl tried to climb up next to him, drawing his handgun, but Merle squashed a hand atop his head and pushed him back down. All he needed was for Peach's little friend to have his head blown off. The Humvee rolled to a stop about ten yards from the gate. He didn't recognize the person standing in the back … until the helmet was removed, and he came face to face with a grinning Dixon.

          "Mama!" Sophia cried happily from where she peeked around the corner of the bus for a better look.

          Daryl took off at a run, racing to get to his wife. He gently lifted her from the back of the vehicle and enveloped her in his arms, burying his face against her throat to breathe her in. He could hardly believe she was there. His heart thundered, a choked sob wrenching from his throat to have her safely back in his arms. "C-Can't breathe, baby … " she gasped. He loosened his grip minutely, allowing her to suck in a deep breath as he leaned back to take her in.

          "Y' ok? Did they hurt y'?" he asked, pushing her leather jacket off her shoulders to inspect her for injuries.

          Carol grinned indulgently, used to his scrutiny. His hands slipped over her neck and shoulders before diving beneath her shirt to feel along her sides and back. "No, but … Daryl, you're bleeding. What happened?"

          "Jus' a flesh wound. I'm ok. I'll let y' check it out soon," he promised.

          Sophia barreled into her mother's side, her arms winding around her waist. "Mama! Mama, I was so worried. Are you ok?"

          "I'm fine, sweetheart." Carol assured her as Daryl wrapped an arm around both his girls and held them close. He doubted he'd be able to let them go for quite some time after the events of the past twenty-four hours. She winked at her husband, freeing herself from his embrace to reach into the back of the Humvee to retrieve his crossbow. "Thought you might be wanting this back."

          Daryl took it from him, checking it over for damage before slinging it over his shoulder. He pulled Carol back into his side and dropped a kiss to her temple. "Happier t' have you back, woman."

          Marty eased herself out of the driver's seat as Merle came charging towards them, but he barely shot a quick glance her way in his quest to get to Martinez. The Latino had already exited the vehicle and was trying to keep it between himself and his enraged friend.

          He held up one hand, the other gripping the tailgate of the Humvee. " _Hermano_ , I can explain! It's not what you think!"

          "Y' fuckin' traitor!" Merle roared, his fist flying towards Caesar's mouth. "That's m' fuckin' fam'ly y' put in danger, y' bastard. I trusted y'!"

          Marty ran up behind him and wrapped her arms around his barrel-like chest, molding herself to his back. "Merle! Merle, stop!"

          He gnashed his teeth and closed his eyes against the red haze of rage coloring his vision. He didn't dare move with her so close. He wouldn't take a chance of her getting caught in a brawl and bring harm to his unborn child  _or_  his woman. "An' jus' why th' hell shouldn't I beat him t' death?! Give me one good reason."

          She took a chance, releasing him to move around to face him, her small hand splaying over his cheek. "Because he didn't betray us. He  _saved_  us."

          Martinez rubbed his aching mouth, careful of his split lip. "It's true. I figured I'd be more use to your lady if Blake thought he could trust me. Soon as the trucks left, I got the girls out and met up with our crew. The rest of the governor's men should be neutralized by now."

          "An' we came straight here t' help … though it don't look as if y' need it," she snarked as she took a look around. Her jade eyes glittered as her expression waxed serious. "Is he dead? Are we free, Merle?"

          "Yeah, Sugar, we are," he breathed, pulling her against his chest.

          "Are y' … uhm … very angry with me? About not tellin' y' about th' baby?" she asked worriedly.

          Merle hid his grin in her hair. "Oh, yeah … totally pissed." He tilted her chin up and dropped a sweet kiss to her lips. "Y' shouldn't've hid somethin' like that from me, woman. I shouldn't've had t' hear it from th' likes of that bastard."

          "I'm sorry. I was tryin' t' protect y'. What would y' have done if I'da told y' when I found out?" she said, her brow arching, practically daring him to lie to her. He winced. "That's right … y' would've packed us up an' run. Then we'd've been fugitives an' th' governor wouldn't've rested 'til we were both dead."

          "Oh, for fuck's sake, shut up, woman!" He leaned forward, pressing her back against the side of the Humvee as he ravaged her lips in a searing kiss. His hand came to rest over her flat belly where his child rested, a sense of relief washing through him to know his little family was safe.

 

*.*.*

 

          "She did what?!" Carol screeched, whirling around to send a shocked look at her daughter. They were walking back to the block, Daryl filling her in on what she'd missed while she'd been making her way from Woodbury. Sophia – sensing her mother's wrath – quickly ducked behind her uncle and slipped her hand into Merle's. "Why would she deviate from the plan?! It was put in place for their safety."

          "Mama … " the girl began tentatively. "In my defense, I was already outside when it all started. There were so many bullets flying around, it's not like I could do anything but duck and cover. And besides, we had Rick with us." As if that was reassuring to Carol's maternal instinct to protect her child. In her opinion,  _no one_  could protect their daughter as well as she or Daryl could.

          Daryl's eyes narrowed as he heard the subtle tone of smugness in his daughter's voice. "An' I s'pose he  _told_  you an' Carl t' make that mad run across th' field, huh? Funny, but I didn't see him runnin' there with y', baby girl."

          Rick groaned. "Oh, you are so not dragging me into this. I'm going to have to deal with enough shit from my own wife." He knew from Lori's vantage point on the roof, she couldn't have missed it. Glancing down at his son, he smirked. "You're grounded, too, by the way."

          "Aw, c'mon! We distracted the governor long enough for Daryl and Merle to get free. Doesn't that cancel out whatever Soph and I did to deserve a grounding?" Carl protested.

          "No. It. Does. NOT!" his mother gritted out through clenched teeth as she met them at the door leading into the common room, a muscle ticking in her jaw and her dark eyes flashing with a mixture of barely concealed rage and fear. The look she sent Rick's way could have melted titanium as she ushered both him and Carl towards the cells.

          Merle chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Sorry t' interrupt what I'm sure woulda been a fine reamin' there, Twiggy, but now's not th' time. We got shit t' discuss, which takes precedence over yer tantrum. Need yer husband in one piece if'n y' don't mind."

          Rick slipped away from his wife and son and beat a hasty retreat in Merle's direction, shooting him a look of gratitude. Daryl hurried into the kitchen in search of something to eat, leaving the others to begin whatever arguments which were sure to arise. Alexandra had started some kind of soup that morning which was bubbling away on their makeshift stove, and the aroma of fresh herbs scented the air, making the hunter realize how long it had been since either he or his wife had eaten.

          Carol moved at his side, reaching for four bowls to fill, her gaze flickering to the corner table where Jamie sat with a few of his people. She frowned when she saw the tears on Kayla's face, the girl's head resting on the sergeant's shoulder.

          Rick intercepted her gaze where he stood on the other side of the island. "Cameron was in the guard tower when the attack began. He was overpowered by one of the governor's men," he said somberly. "He didn't make it."

          "No," she gasped. She hadn't known the Marine well, but he had still been part of their extended family, and Carol's heart went out to the girl.

          Daryl pushed a bowl of soup into her hands, pointing her towards the table where Marty and Merle sat. "G'on. Y' need t' eat. There'll be time for grievin' later." She did as he asked and took his own bowl while he filled two more for his brother and Marty.

          Mostly everyone had filed into the common room – aside from Miles and Rory who were digging a grave – even Lori and Carl, the boy looking sullen and more than a little irritated. They were quiet, Kayla's soft sobs and the clinking of spoons against the ceramic dishware the only sounds.

          Finally, Merle pushed his bowl away and rose to his feet to face Rick. "Well, Officer Friendly, I'm real sorry about yer new place getting' shot up an' all, but ... Woodbury's ours now."

          Daryl scowled at his brother. Merle never had been one to beat around the bush. "Fuck's sake, Merle. Give 'em time t' process what jus' went down," he growled lowly.

          The eldest Dixon shook his head. "Now see, that's somethin' we can't afford t' do." He began to make his way through the tables, looking at each and every member of the group. "I've been livin' in that town for quite a while now. Y' think it was jus' th' governor an' his sycophants? Well, it wasn't. There's fam'lies there … ol' folk … kids … people who ain't strong enough t' survive outside th' safety of th' walls. They're gonna need a new leader."

          Rick planted his hands on his hips, his head tilting ever so slightly to the right. "And that's  _you?_   _You're_ looking to be the new leader of this town?" He wasn't so sure Merle Dixon was the right man for the job, despite the hard feelings which had been buried between them.

          "Me?" Merle snorted. "Oh, hell no! I ain't no leader … least not by myself. No, I rather like th' setup y' got goin' in this group. Y' might be the official head guy, but y' smart about it, got a council, structure. It's what a community needs to grow strong. An' with a little sweet talk, I think I can get y' in."

          Daryl scrubbed his hands over his face to hide his smirk. He knew his brother had a silver tongue when it came to getting what he wanted, and this time would be no different. But if he was being honest about wanting to be part of the council, he'd back him. Merle had changed since the quarry, since Carol and Sophia's – and now Marty's – influence in his life.

          The sergeant rose to his feet, Alexandra taking his place to comfort Kayla. "What about the prison? We're just going to abandon it? Our blood was spilled here, not to mention the hard work we've all put in just to make it into a home. It don't exactly feel right to me."

          Merle nodded. Jamie's reasoning was sound, and it was some which Merle shared. He didn't want to give up Woodbury because of the efforts he'd put in there.

          Rick perched a hip against the island and leveled the sergeant with a calculating stare. "What did you have in mind?"

          "Now, don't get me wrong," Jamie began. "Every one of us is grateful for y'all allowing us to be part of this group. We're a family now. Tori believed in that so strongly, but I feel we need to do more. I think there are still people – good people – out there who need the same chance you gave us." There were some cautious nods from several of the assembled. "I would like for some of us to remain here at the prison, fortify it as we'd planned and take in survivors. I want this to be a community eventually, much like what Woodbury has become."

          "I, for one, think that's a wonderful idea," Carol interjected. "Once both communities are up and running, there will be endless possibilities for trade between us."

          Rick smiled. "Alright, let's have a show of hands. All those in favor?" It was unanimous. "Jamie, we'll need a list from you on who wishes to stay."

          Merle moved to stand behind Marty, resting his hands on her shoulders and kneading gently. "Peachy. Now we need t' get th' governor's body back t' Woodbury so I can make a speech." He glanced over at Rick. "Jus' try not t' say nothin' t' get us shot, sheriff. I really don't wanna have all this blow up in our face now that we've come so far."

 

*.*.*

 

          Tara sat on the wall, chewing on one of her coveted Twizzler's, one leg dangling, kicking the empty air in nervous agitation. Woodbury was quiet. The governor's group of trusted men had been dwindling over the months, only a dozen or so remaining, and it amazed her how easy it had been to strike them down. She shot an admiring glance towards Abraham where he paced the length of the wall. It had taken him no time to organize them all to effectively rid the town of the threat.

          She shivered, remembering the search following what could only be termed as a slaughter. The men and two women hadn't been expecting their allegiance to the governor to be repaid them with their deaths, but they couldn't allow people like them – inhumane by no stretch of the imagination – to corrupt what they were trying to build. In the wee hours of the morning, their enemies dead, they'd emptied the cages of walkers in the far secluded northern corner of the town, putting them down and hauling the corpses off to later be burned. The arena – the governor's theater – had been swept to make sure there were no further dangers. The dungeon had been cleared as well, the cache of weapons secured for future use. She was sure Dixon would want an inventory upon his return.

          Tara had seen more than her share of horrors when she'd been recruited. Well, not so much recruited as saved. Her father, sister and niece had already met their end when Abraham, Eugene and Rosita had come upon her, inches away from being bitten. It had felt only right to join their cause and then later Merle's. It wasn't as if she had anything to lose then, but she couldn't see herself lying down to die. Her survival instinct was just too strong. Yet, what she and Ty and Sasha had found when they'd searched the governor's private quarters would plague her with nightmares for years to come.

          Sasha had opened the cage in the wall as Tyreese stared horrified at the numerous trophies floating in the fish tanks lining the walls. Tara had thought he'd imprisoned the little girl, a bag over her head and a straight-jacket holding her arms captive. That alone was scarring enough. She'd actually screamed when Sasha had yanked the sack from the girl's head to reveal a walker, but her friend hadn't hesitated to put a bullet through its head. It was then the speculation had begun, the who, what and why. They'd all known Blake was a twisted bastard, but to hold a child – walker or not – in a cage … it just proved how positively sick the man truly was. Furthering their search through the apartment, Tyreese had found an old photo of the governor with his wife and daughter, and comparing it to the walker they'd found, they could only assume the little girl had been his child.

          Now, as she sat on the wall, her finger never far from the trigger on her AK, she still couldn't relax. Woodbury was under their control – not that the townspeople had been informed yet – but she wouldn't rest until Merle and Marty returned. Her ears perked up at the sound of a vehicle … two in fact, and she whistled towards the other end of the wall, gaining Abraham's attention.

          "Incoming! Two vehicles … sounds like ours." She jerked her chin in the direction of the road. "Think it's them?"

          Abe draped an arm over her shoulder and spit over the side of the wall. "Sounds like. But I ain't playin' around this time, darlin'. Ol' Gov comes back without our commander, I'm takin' him out myself."

 

*.*.*

 

          Merle relaxed back in the passenger seat as Marty drove the Humvee in the direction of Woodbury, Sophia nestled between them on the bench seat, her head against her uncle's shoulder. Daryl had opted to ride in the back with access to the gun on the roof while Carol occupied the back seat. Martinez drove the jeep behind them, Rick, Lori and Carl filling up the empty spaces beside him. It had been decided only they would travel back to the town to carry out the final stages of Dixon's brainchild, the rest of the group remaining behind at the prison.

          Tara saluted him cheekily when she realized it was him and Marty in the Humvee, and Abe called down to more of their crew to open the gates wide to allow the vehicles inside. Tyreese and Sasha took over watch, so Abe could give his report the moment the Dixon's jumped down from the vehicle.

          "It done?" Merle asked, pulling Marty close to his side as she rounded the hood of the Humvee. He could sense the rest of his family crowding behind him as he waited for news.

          Tara interrupted, her hands waving energetically as she whisper-shouted at the newcomers. "Done? DONE?! Dude, you just don't know the hell we went through after you left!" she cut across Abe before he could open his mouth. "That sicko had this weird ass trophy room … heads in a fish tank … walker kid – we think it was his daughter – locked in this cage built into the wall … oh, my god, I'm still freaking out about it, and –"

          Rosita nudged her hard in the side. "Damn, girl, chill. Get over it."

          "Calm yer tits, Sugar. Ain't nothin' that fucker had hidden should surprise y' none."

          Marty looked alarmed. "Seriously?"

          "No need to worry, darlin'," Abe assured her. "We took care of it before the sun came up. Just been waiting to see if y'all were going to make it back in one piece before we came lookin'." He shot a look at Merle. "We cleaned up the governor's mess as best as possible to make the transition of power run smoothly. I'm trustin' y'all brought him back with you?"

          Merle smirked. "Yeah, we got him," he confirmed. "Rosie, Tara, grab Bob an' spread th' word to have everyone meet in the arena. Go with 'em, Paco!" he shot back to Martinez.

          "You sure y'all ready for this, Dixon?" Abraham asked, pulling a cigar from a pocket of his jacket and lighting it.

          "'Bout as ready as I'll ever be," he grumbled, his gaze swinging to the kids as they remained close to their parents, eyes wide, taking in everything. He knew Sophia – certainly – would have a million and one questions for him before the day was out.

          Daryl clutched a hand around the strap of his crossbow, the other on his knife as he seemed to circle his wife and daughter. He didn't doubt Merle thought the town safe, but he still wasn't ready to relax his guard.

          Marty slipped away from Merle and nudged Carol's shoulder with her own. "Hey, y' a'right? We might have time for a tour while we're waitin' on everybody to gather at the arena."

          "It's just … well, it's bigger than I expected," Carol replied, her gaze scrutinizing the walls. They didn't go very far to alleviating her fears. "Are you sure the walls are sturdy? Have there been many breaches while you've been here?"

          Marty waved Lori over to join them and herded them towards the arena, Merle urging Rick, Daryl and the kids to follow while they prepared the governor's body. "Governor wasn't all that big on fortifying our town or plantin' crops. His interest lay more towards weapons – the bigger the better – an' preferably in large quantities. The walls have held up rather well, but there's vast room for improvement." She pointed to several storefronts along the main street. "Communal kitchens are there, th' clinic, over there is the community center where we staff everyone for their jobs here in the town. The cells will be refitted for storage and whatnot … y' get th' drift, I'm sure."

          Lori stared with wide-eyed disbelief. "It's almost as if the outbreak never happened here. Everyone I've seen so far seems so …"

          "Happy?" Marty scoffed. "More like oblivious. Blake wanted t' keep 'em that way. The people y' see on th' street – most of 'em anyway – were here when the governor took over, hidin' in their homes. He  _saved_  them, won them over, promised he'd protect them. Others are people we've found out while on runs who have settled in. Regardless, they're gonna need us t' show 'em how t' protect themselves, their families an' the town."

          Rick nodded. "No, they can't continue on with that frame of mind. I know we'd have probably died ten times over if Daryl hadn't trained us up a bit."

          Marty grinned proudly. "Baby Dixon has always been th' type t' step up an' do what's right. It's why he's th' sweet one. Y'all don't know jus' how lucky y' are he ended up in your group."

          Daryl smirked, ducking his head as his wife wrapped her fingers around his. A hint of pink tinged his cheeks as Marty caught his eye. He knew where he stood in the group, how they all cared for him, how they depended on him, but hearing Rick sing his praises would never sit well with him. He did what needed to be done for his Carol, both his girls. They drove him. Yes, the group felt like a great big dysfunctional family and he cared about each of them in his own way, but his girls were what kept him going.

          Shifting their focus off of him, he jerked his head in the direction of a building on the corner. "What's over there? Housing?"

          "Yep," she confirmed. Me an' Merle have th' only occupied _penthouse_ at th' top. There are four. Figured your group would want t' be in th' same buildin' for a while. Your own spaces, but within shoutin' distance."

          Carol shared a look with Lori and smiled. Merle hadn't been wrong. It was a place they could feel safe, a place they could fortify and build, a place where they could  _live._  She was certain there would be ups and downs – as with any community - but the benefits far outweighed the risks. They could have a future.

 

*.*.*

 

          Lori and Carol squished the kids between them as they took a seat on the bottom row of the bleachers, their husbands on either side of them. Carol recognized some of Merle's people, the ones she'd met at the spa where they'd found Tori and her group. They'd positioned themselves strategically around the arena, though they appeared aloof, friendly and casual to onlookers. Marty remained close, though she would step away from time to time to greet someone or answer questions.

          She felt Daryl fidget next to her, gnawing on his thumbnail. It was all she could do to keep herself from reaching for his hand. Where the hell was Merle? Her husband tensed, instantly alert as a hush fell over the assembly, his gaze drawn towards the double doors which had been thrown open to allow in the light. Merle walked ahead, Martinez and Abraham following behind him, pushing a gurney they'd taken from the clinic.

          The three of them stopped in the center of the cavernous room, Merle's expression somber. "Good afternoon. I need t' apologize for takin' y' all away from yer duties, but I'm afraid I'm th' bearer of bad news," he began. "A tragedy has struck us low."

          "What do you mean, Mr. Dixon?"

          "What's happened?!"

          "Where's our governor?!"

          Carol linked her fingers through Daryl's and wrapped an arm around Sophia's shoulders as Merle held up his hands to settle the crowd. Daryl was taut as a bow string, the raised voices behind him setting his teeth on edge.

          Merle was the picture of calm as he waited, waving a hand over the shrouded body behind him once quiet reigned. "Our beloved leader was taken from us this morning." Cries of panic rose to the rafters, several more moments passing before he could continue. "Our scouts had reported a herd in th' area, an' he was determined t' find out if it was a threat t' our town. Fortunately, it was on an eastward heading well away from Woodbury."

          A collective sigh of relief swept the crowd at danger averted, but the tension didn't abate much.

          "While we were on our recon mission, th' governor insisted we check out th' immediate area. There were signs of survivors in th' area, an' our leader, our  _savior_ , has never been one t' turn his back if he could help someone. We found a group hunkered down at th' prison a few miles away, under attack, fighting off way more biters than they could handle themselves."

          Daryl shot his brother a blank look and forced himself not to roll his eyes.  _What a crock, bro!_

          "It was m' brother's group, m' fam'ly. The governor has been helping me search for him since I joined on here at Woodbury. He wasn't goin' t' be responsible for me losin' 'em now that I'd found them. Our men, we jumped in t' help, beatin' off th' dead." Merle bowed his head and took a shuddering breath, hoping he wouldn't puke on the bile spewing from his mouth. "We didn't know until it was too late … our governor had fallen."

          Marty  _did_  roll her eyes and stifle a groan.

          "We cannot let his death be in vain! We must go on as he woulda wanted! Though our leader's gone, we are still here! It is up t' us t' see Woodbury don't fail."

          "Who will lead us, Mr. Dixon?" someone near the top row shouted.

          "Merle!"

          "Dixon!"

          "You've always been there for us, Merle!"

          Merle held up his hands once more in a gesture for silence. "It's time for a change, m' friends. I don't think anyone could ever lead us with the same conviction an' strength as our governor did. We will, instead, choose a council, a governin' body to enforce our laws an' make our decisions. We will have democracy an' make Mr. Blake – god rest his soul – proud of th' legacy he left behind."

 

*.*.*

 

          "You're so full o' shit, Merle," Daryl scoffed, shaking his head. For the last four hours, he'd stuck to his brother's side on the tour Merle had promised Rick. What should have taken no more than an hour and a half, had turned into four due to the amount of townsfolk seeking advice, reassurance or answers to simple everyday matters. He was tired, he had a blister on his heel, and by god, he wanted his wife. Marty had taken her, Lori and the kids to sort out accomodations, and though he wouldn't outright admit it anywhere within hearing distance of his brother, Daryl missed his woman. "These yahoos have t' be th' most gullible people on th' planet."

          Rick chuckled, reaching for the door leading into the apartment building and holding it open for the brothers. "I dunno, Daryl, he was pretty slick the way he had them eating out of his hands."

          Merle led the way to the stairs, jogging slightly as he preceded them to the fifth floor. "It don't matter what I had t' say t' them. In th' end, they believed it. I want this place for my people, will fight for it if I have t', but what's th' point of slaughtering a bunch of innocents if I don't have t'? They're good decent people … jus' need guidance s'all."

          "What are you going to do about the council?" Rick asked, casting a glance Daryl's way across Merle who was sandwiched between them.

          "Yeah … y'know you're gonna have t' appoint a few o' them so it won't look like an imbalance of power."

          Merle yawned loudly and scrubbed a hand over his face as he paused at the end of the hall. Three out of four doors were open and the sounds of happy laughter filtered out to them. "Already got a few in mind, but we need t' save this discussion for tomorrow." He wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders and propelled him towards his apartment. "Tonight, we're gonna rest easy, settle in an' enjoy th' first night in months we ain't gotta worry about Blake's reign of terror, walkers tryin' t' knock th' fence down or frostbite on yer balls."

          Marty stuck her head out into the hall and arched a brow. "Who's got frostbite on their balls, Dixon? And why should it be of such concern to you? There somethin' I should know about?"

          Merle wrapped his arms around her waist and hefted her off the floor, packing her back inside. "What's for dinner?" he asked, nuzzling her neck as he set her on her feet in the kitchen.

          Lori and Carol sat at the bar on two high-backed stools and the brunette groaned, rubbing a hand over her baby bump. "Too bad we can't order pizza."

          "Says who?" Marty grinned, rummaging in the cabinet and coming out with several boxes of pizza mix and canned pepperoni sauce.

          Lori's mouth dropped open, and she could only pray she hadn't started drooling. "Oh, my god, you're my new best friend!" She shot an apologetic look at Carol. "Sorry, she has pizza."

          Marty pilfered the cupboards for pans and handed them to Merle. "We'll get started on this, ladies. Why don't y'all show yer husbands your new digs. Not like y'all can leave tonight t' go back t' th' prison. Too dangerous at night."

          Rick opened his mouth to protest, but Lori cut him off. "Carol sent Martinez and a few of the others back this afternoon with a message for them, and they're going to stay and help keep a watch on things until we return in the morning."

          "Y'all jus' got everythin' handled, don'tcha?" Daryl snorted, wrapping an arm around his wife's waist as she made towards the door.

          "Toldja, little bro. Tonight, yer gonna get that stick outta yer ass and relax."

          Daryl flipped him off as he breezed out behind Carol, leaving Lori and Rick to close the door behind them. Merle wrapped his arms around Marty from behind, setting the pans aside, his hands splaying over her still flat belly. "Y' sure y' up t' cooking t'night? We can always go grab somethin' from the communal kitchens."

          Marty fiddled with the package of pizza dough, her eyes skimming over the directions. "It's fine. I'd rather it just be us with th' kids."

          Merle could feel the tension in her body where she was pressed so snugly against him, could see the nervous twitch in her hands and hear the slight tremor in her voice. "Why don'tcha tell me what's really botherin' y', Sugar."

          "Noth –"

          "Bullshit."

          "Really, I'm fine." She sighed in defeat as he turned her in his arms and tilted her chin up. She knew there was no point in lying. "It's jus' th' stress, Merle. I didn't want y' t' find out about our baby th' way y' did, an' Blake threatenin' t' take him from y'. I thought … I thought I was goin' t' lose y', an' I didn't even know if y' wanted this child."

          He brushed away the solitary tear which escaped the corner of her eye, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. "Martine," he breathed against her lips, "I love y' … an' I love our baby. Th' governor's gone, an' he ain't gonna be takin'  _anythin'_  from y' ever again."

          "Yeah? Well, I love you, too, Dixon."

          Merle's heart thundered against his chest, just as it always did when she professed her love for him. But this time, it just wasn't enough. "Yer stuck with me, woman … marry me."

          Marty gasped, inching back enough to stare up into his honest blue gaze. "What?!"

          "Marry me. Be m’ wife, so I can make sure everyone knows yer mine." He caught her lips in a tender kiss. "So, everyone knows I'm yers."

          "Not jus' because of th' baby?"

          "Baby's jus' a bonus, Sugar. None o' this works without y'. An' I swear if y' tell anyone about all this mushy shit, I'll deny it!"

          Marty buried herself against his chest and giggled. Typical Merle.

          "Is that a yes?"

          "Yeah … it's a yes."

          Daryl closed the door and leaned back against it with a sigh, pulling his crossbow from his back and resting it to the side of the entryway. He kept one eye on his wife as she moved with ease through the open space, coming to stop at a window overlooking the street. The apartment she'd chosen had the same floor plan as Merle's, but it was done in a color scheme which suited his tastes … a clever mix of browns, mauve and green. There was a bar with more of the same stools leading into the kitchen, and mix matched pieces in the living room, squashy and comfortable. He felt his girls could make a home here, which helped to settle the nervous tension he'd carried in his roiling stomach all day.

          "There are three bedrooms down the hall, ours with an ensuite bathroom and then another between the room Sophia chose and the spare," Carol murmured distractedly. He knew that tone, the one where she thought she could hide herself away from him, so he wouldn't have to share the burden of her worries.

          He took his vest off and laid it over the back of the sofa before kicking his boots under the coffee table and making his way over to her. Carol sighed, leaning back against his chest as he curled his arms around her. "Tell me what's wrong, baby. Y' don't like th' décor?"

          She snorted at his attempt to lighten her mood. "The décor is fine."

          His lips found the crook of her neck, and he peppered her skin with light gentle kisses. "I cain't fix it if I don't know what's broken. Tell me."

          Her lower lip trembled. "I'm scared, Daryl."

          "We all are –"

          "NO!" she hissed, turning in his arms, her fingers fisting in the fabric of his button up. "Not like that. I'm not afraid for me, but … for you and our daughter. I always thought the walkers were the most dangerous threat out there, but they're not. The living are! I never realized it until last night when you were bound helpless on the floor of that room and I couldn't get to you."

          Daryl tightened his arms around her waist, offering her safety, comfort, love … whatever she needed, at the moment, to make her feel better, more secure. "Carol, sweetheart –"

          "How will we know who we can trust, who we can offer the shelter of our town? Look what happened to Tori's husband when they tried to help that girl. Look how easily we were taken when you and I went hunting." Her grief and anguish bleed onto his shirt in the form of her hot tears, and he felt helpless to do anything but hold her. "Sophia … what if we can't protect her?"

          He chuckled and dropped a kiss to her crown. "Have y' met lil' Dixon? I mean, seriously, woman? Rick said it was her idea t' take out th' guard tower with th' grenade. She's damn near as good with weapons as either me or Merle."

          "Daryl, she's only twelve!" Carol wailed, not finding it the least bit amusing.

          "But, don'tcha see? She's only gonna get better, faster, stronger … jus' like you will. We're gonna train up th' people in this town, an' while you're teachin', you're gonna be honin' skills y' already have." His hands curled around her shoulders, squeezing gently, reassuringly as he met her gaze. "There ain't no guarantees, but we ain't gonna let th' fear stop us. We ain't gone through all th' shit we have because we're weak, woman. Don't let what happened yesterday keep y' from livin' today. We got too much t' look forward to … together."

          Carol shot him a watery smile. "Why do you put up with me?"

          Daryl didn't hesitate to draw her closer once more, his lips brushing over hers in a feather-light kiss. "'Cause I love y'." He lifted her into his arms and stalked towards the hallway he hadn't yet explored. "Now, how 'bout y' show me where our bedroom is."

          She pointed to the left and he kicked the door shut behind them as he bore her towards the bed and laid her carefully atop the navy duvet. "What about Sophia?"

          His lips trailed along her jaw, his teeth nipping at her smooth flesh as he grinned unrepentantly. "Oh, I think she'll be a'right with Rick an' Lori for a while."

          Carol moaned softly as her husband's tongue dipped into the hollow of her throat. Their daughter would be alright … they all would be.

 

 

THE END

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: I can't believe this is over. 1 year 9 months and nearly 335K words. When I wrote 'the end', I literally burst into tears. I loved writing this for y'all, and I enjoyed every comment, every request, every suggestion. Your love and support has meant so much to me. I hope you weren't disappointed with the ending. Please review one more time? Love and hugs to all my dear friends. Thank you for coming along on the ride with me. 
> 
> Margaritas all around for my darling betas: BettyBubble and Geektaire. Thanks for sticking with me, encouraging me, and literally kicking me in the butt when I stalled. Love y'all so much!


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